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A PERFECT FOOL 


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A 


PERFECT FOOL 


BY 


FLORENCE WARDEN, 


Aiitho?- o/ “ The House on the Marshy" '"'‘A Terrible Family^' '‘'‘Ralph 



THE INTERNATIONAL NEWS COMPANY, 


LONDON. 


NEW YORK. 


LEIPSIC. 



Copyright, 1894, 

BY 

Florence Warden. 


[All rights reserved. 
















A PERFECT FOOL. 


CHAPTER I. 

THE GREAT MAN OF A LITTLE TOWN. 

“ My dear, the girl is a perfect fool. What her 
poor mother is going to do with her I’m sure I 
don’t know! As for teaching, I don’t believe she 
knows anything herself. And as for getting mar- 
ried, why, I’m perfectly certain she doesn’t know 
beef from mutton, and couldn’t tell the difference 
between a cabbage and a cauliflower. I should 
be very sorry for the man who took Chris Aber- 
carne for a wife!” 

So spoke one of Chris Abercarne’s mother’s 
friends to another old lady, who was of exactly the 
same way of thinking, as a pretty girl with dark 
brown hair and merry dark blue eyes passed the 
window of a dull house in a dull road in that part 
of Hammersmith which calls itself West Kensing- 
ton. 

Indeed, matters had come to a serious point with 
Chris and her mother. The widow of an officer 
in the army, Mrs. Abercarne, having only the 
one child, had got on very comfortably for some 
years, until one of those periodical upheavals of 


8 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“things in the City” had caused a sudden diminu- 
tion of her small income, and brought the two 
ladies face to face with actual instead of conven- 
tional poverty. Poor Mrs. Abercarne felt utterly 
helpless; and Chris, merry Chris, who hitherto 
had had nothing to do but to laugh and keep her 
mother and her friends in good spirits, found with 
surprising suddenness that some aspects of life are 
no laughing matter. 

At first there had been a vague tendency on the 
ladies’ part to trust to the help of their rich and 
well-born relations. But this tendency was 
checked very early by the uncompromising tone of 
their relations’ letters. It was clear that to get 
out of their difficulties they had no one but them- 
selves to rely upon. Mrs. Abercarne was a hope- 
ful woman, however, with an enormous belief in 
her own untried powers. She had an unacknowl- 
edged belief that nothing very dreadful ever did 
or ever could happen to a widow of a colonel, who 
was also the granddaughter of an admiral and first 
cousin to the son of a marquis. She would man- 
age, so she said a hundred times, to pull herself 
and her “little daughter” through their difficulties. 

Chris she had always treated as a baby, a very 
sweet and charming child, but a creature to be 
tenderly cared for and played with, not to be 
trusted or confided in. Mrs. Abercarne had old- 
fashioned notions about the bringing up of girls, 
and she would have been reduced to her last crust 
before consenting to allow her daughter to leave 
her except as a wife. 


THE GREAT MAN OF A LITTLE TOWN. 9 

Now Chris, without daring openly to combat her 
mother’s opinion that she was a mere baby, unfit 
by reason of her tender years to have a voice in 
any serious discussion, had her own views as to 
the wisdom of her adored mother’s behavior, over 
which she brooded in secret. She could not help 
feeling that she was by no means the helpless 
creature her mother and her mother’s friends im- 
agined, and she set about devising plans whereby 
she might bring such wits as she possessed to their 
common aid. 

To this end she used to buy the Times and the 
other daily papers, and search their columns with 
a view to finding a rapid and easy way of making 
a fortune. 

According to these same papers, nothing in the 
world was so simple. You had only to send foui- 
teen stamps to somebody, with an address in an ob- 
scure street, to learn the golden secret of realizing 
a competence without hindrance to present employ- 
ment. ” 

As our present employment consists generally 
of sitting looking at the fire with our hands clasped, 
wondering where the next quarter’s rent is to come 
from,” she remarked to her mother, who looked 
upon these exercises as trivial, “it wouldn’t mat- 
ter if we were hindered in it !” 

Although Mrs. Abercarne felt convinced that 
the brilliant prospect was illusory, and that the 
work offered would be something inconsistent with 
the dignity of a gentlewoman, she was always 
ready to supply the necessary fourteen stamps, and 


10 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


she waited with quite as much anxiety as her 
daughter for the answers they received to these 
applications. These answers were, unfortunately, 
nearly all of the same kind. The applicant for the 
fortune was to sell small, and for the most part 
useless, articles on commission among his or her 
friends. 

“And you know, mamma,” commented Chris 
sorrowfully, as she looked at a pair of aluminium 
studs which had been sent in return for the latest 
fourteen stamps, “ as our commission is only three- 
pence on each pair, if we had forty thousand 
friends and each friend bought a pair of studs from 
us, that would be only four hundred and ninety- 
eight pounds ten shillings! I’ve worked it out. 
And that isn’t what I should call a fortune after 
all!” 

Her mother sighed, and then said rather petu- 
lantly that she had known those advertisements 
were only nonsense, and she hoped she would not 
want to waste any more money in that way. 

“No, mother,” said Chris gently. 

And then the blood rushed up into her face as 
her eye caught sight in the columns of the news- 
paper before her of an advertisement of a different 
kind. 

“ If I only dared !” she thought, as she threw a 
sly glance at her mother’s worried face. But she 
did not dare, until presently she saw a tear drop 
suddenly on to her mother’s dark dress. 

In a moment Chris was on her knees. Her 
pretty, round young face was full of eagerness, as 


THE GREAT MAN OF A LITTLE TOWN 11 

well as of sympathy, and in the touch of her arms 
as they closed round her mother’s neck there was 
the clinging caress of one who entreats. 

‘^Mother, mother!” whispered she breathlessly, 
“don’t be angry; you mustn’t. Only — only — I 
have something to say, something you must see. 
Look here,” and she thrust the newspaper into 
Mrs. Abercarne’s hands and placed the lady’s 
white fingers on a certain paragraph. “Read 
that.” 

Drying her eyes hastily, ashamed to have been 
detected, Mrs. Abercarne did as she was asked to 
do. But the words she read conveyed no meaning 
to her, or at least she pretended they did not. But 
a slight tone of acerbity was noticeable in her voice 
as she answered. And Chris knew that her 
mother understood. 

“ Well, my dear,” said the colonel’s widow, with 
bland dignity which she meant to denote uncon- 
sciousness, “I see nothing that can possibly inter- 
est you or me in the lines you have pointed out. 
Your finger must have slipped, I think.” 

“Read the lines aloud, mother dear,” whispered 
Chris, caressing her mother’s hand. 

Still with the same imperfect assumption of ex- 
treme innocence, Mrs. Abercarne read, by the light 
of the fire, the following advertisement : 

“ Wanted, a thoroughly reliable and trustworthy 
woman, with daughter preferred, as housekeeper 
in a large establishment where the owner is often 
away. Apply by letter only in the first instance 
to J. B., Wyngham House, Wyngham-on-Sea.” 


12 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“Well, my dear child,” said Mrs. Abercarne 
superbly, as she laid down the paper, “ surely that 
is not what you wanted me to read !” 

But Chris buried her head in her mother’s 
shoulder. 

“Yes, but it is though,” she whispered. 

Of course the elder lady had expected this; 
equally of course she had to affect the utmost 
amazement. 

“And is it possible, my dear Christina,” she 
murmured gently, “that you can consider the 
words ‘a reliable and trustworthy woman’ appli- 
cable to me?” 

But here, luckily for the girl, her sense of fun 
carried her away, and she laughed until she cried. 
Her tears, however, were not all of merriment. 

“ Why, certainly, mother, ” said she merrily. “ I 
should certainly be very indignant with any person 
who said they w ere not ! Look here, ” she went on 
with sudden gravity, “ what’s the use of pretend- 
ing any longer that we can live on in the old way, 
when you know we can’t? What’s the use of 
keeping up this house, and having servants whom 
we don’t see how we shall be able to pay, when we 
dread every knock of the postman, because it may 
be more bills? Mother, mother, do let us give it 
up. Don’t let’s play any longer at being anything 
but dreadfully poor. Let us face it and make the 
best of it.” 

“ What !” exclaimed the poor lady, whose pitiful 
pride, to do her justice, was much more concerned 
with her beautiful young daughter’s position than 


THE GREAT MAN OF A LITTLE TOWN, 13 

with her own, ‘^and be a housekeeper! Just an 
upper servant ! And perhaps have this horrid man 
asking you to mend the table-cloths and count the 
clothes for the wash!” cried her mother tragi- 
cally. 

“Well, mother, I shouldn’t mind,” said Chris, 
laughing. “ And it’s too bad to call him a horrid 
man, when the worst thing the poor fellow has 
been guilty of so far is to advertise for a house- 
keeper for his 4arge establishment. ’ Oh, mother, 
wouldn’t you like to be at the head of a large 
establishment again, even if it were somebody 
else’s?” 

But Mrs. Abercarne shook her head. Her 
daughter’s persuasions, perhaps the very novelty 
of her child’s trying to persuade seriously at all, 
were taking their effect upon her ; but it was an 
effect which produced in the poor gentlewoman the 
most acute shame and misery. 

“What would Lord Llanfyllin say?” murmured 
she. 

“ What could he say except that it was a good 
deal better to keep somebody else’s house than to 
starve in one’s own?” retorted Chris brightly. 
“ And as he’s never seen me, or taken the slightest 
notice of you since poor papa died, we really 
needn’t trouble ourselves about him at all.” 

This was self-evident, but Mrs. Abercarne did 
not like to be reminded of the fact. Her cousin 
by a remote cousinship. Lord Llanfyllin had for- 
gotten her very existence years ago. But in the 
most sacred recesses of her heart he still sat en- 


14 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


throned, symbol of all that was greatest and 
noblest in the land, and of her connection with it. 
She liked to think that her actions mattered to 
him, and to be reminded of the fact that they did 
not was eminently distasteful to her. 

The postman soon after this came to the aid of 
Chris and her arguments by bringing the usual 
batch of worrying letters with bills and threats. 
With a burst of tears Mrs. Abercarne gave way, 
and with her daughter’s soothing arms round her 
neck, answered the loathsome advertisement with 
an eager hope in her heart that her letter would 
remain unnoticed by the advertiser. 

Poor lady! She was disappointed. Two days 
later she received an answer to her letter, written 
in the neat hand of a man of business, in the 
following words : 

“ Dear Madam — Please state terms and approx- 
imate age of self and daughter; also date when 
able to come. Yours faithfully, 

“John Bradfield.” 

Mrs. Abercarne felt stupefied, almost fright- 
ened. 

“You said most likely he’d not even answer!” 
she said reproachfully to her daughter. 

But Chris, who felt that the honor or the shame 
of this undertaking would devolve upon her, was 
full of excitement, and did not rest until she had 
hurried her mother into an answer, intimating that 
they would be willing to become inmates of his 
house, and that Mrs. Abercarne would undertake 


THE GREAT MAN OF A LITTLE TOWN. 15 

the superintendence of his establishment for an 
honorarium of sixty pounds a year. 

“As for telling him my age, Christina,” went 
on the lady haughtily, “ that I certainly shall not 
do. I consider the request most impertinent, and 
it seems to me to prove conclusively that, however 
well off he may be, this Mr. John Bradfield is not 
a gentleman.” 

“Very well, mother, you needn’t tell him your 
age; you can tell him mine. And then he can 
guess yours pretty nearly,” she added with a mis- 
chievous laugh. “ It looks rather as if we thought 
we were doing him a great favor by condescending 
to accept his money and live comfortably in his 
house, doesn’t it?” she said when she had glanced 
through her mother’s letter. 

This was exactly Mrs. Abercarne’s view of the 
transaction, and she was rather shocked to find 
that it was not also her daughter’s. So she tried 
hard to impress upon Chris, who listened dutifully 
and without comment, that when two women of 
gentle birth and breeding took upon themselves 
such an appointment, they were indeed conferring 
upon the individual whose humble duty it was to 
maintain them in such a position, an honor and a 
priceless boon. 

Chris, who was beginning secretly to indulge in 
the luxury of opinions of her own, grew rather 
anxious lest her mother’s peculiarities of style 
should frighten Mr. John Bradfield, and induce 
him to bestow the “ appointment” in question upon 
some mother and daughter, less well-born perhaps. 


16 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


but at the same time less graciously condescending 
and more accommodating. She watched eagerly for 
the postman for the next few days, and when an- 
other letter arrived in the neat business-like hand, 
her fingers trembled as she ran with it to her mother. 
Then Chris noticed that Mrs. Abercarne, while 
still careful to affect the haughtiest indifference, 
was really as anxious as she as to the contents of 
the letter. Indeed, the poor lady had more debts 
and more difficulties than she let her child know 
anything about, and she was by this time wonder- 
ing what would become of them if Mr. Bradfield 
should decide not to avail himself of her conde- 
scending offer. This was the letter : 

“ Dear Madam — Leave Charing Cross to-mor- 
row (Thursday) at 3:30. You will reach Wyng- 
bam at 6 :05 (if you don’t get into the wrong train 
when you change at Abbey Marsh), and you will 
find a conveyance at the station to bring you to 
the house. Yours faithfully, 

“John Bradfield.” 

Mrs. Abercarne drew a long breath. 

“To-morrow!” she gasped. “Oh, Chris, we 
must give the whole thing up. The man is evi- 
dently quite mad. I shouldn’t wonder if the place 
were to turn out to be a private lunatic asylum. 
To-morrow I” 

And the poor lady, bitterly disappointed although 
she would not own it, fell to laughing hysterically. 
Chris threw her arms round her neck ; she did not 
mean the project to fall through now. 


THE GREAT MAN OF A LITTLE TOWN. 17 

“ Why not to-morrow as well as any other day, 
mother, and get it over?” suggested she. “ He 
isn’t mad, I expect. Only eccentric. You know 
that people who live in the country always grow 
eccentric and very self-willed. Don’t give up 
until you haA^e seen what he is like.” 

To the girl’s mind nothing could be more en- 
chanting than the prospect of missing the round of 
farewell visits, the half-sincere condolences of her 
mother’s large circle of friends, the dread of facing 
Avhichhad been haunting her, and in the end Chris 
had her Avay, and by a mighty effort everything 
was packed that night, except a few necessaries 
which Chris herself unmethodically rammed into 
the trunks on the following morning, Avhile Mrs. 
Abercarne made a rapid circuit of such friends as 
lived near that she might not quite miss the 
ceremony and the sympathy of a formal leave- 
taking. 

Mrs. Abercarne had scarcely recovered the 
breath which Mr. Bradfield’s last letter had taken 
away when the train, on a cold but fine November 
evening, arrived at Wyngham station. 

There were few people on the platform, but there 
was a footman evidently looking out for some one, 
and Chris suggested that it must be for them, and 
her guess was correct. The man got their lug- 
gage out, under the supervision of Mrs. Abercarne, 
and as the lady had thought proper to bring a great 
many more trunks than she really wanted in order 
to give a sense of her dignity and importance, this 
was a work of time. 

2 


18 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Meanwhile Chris, by her mother’s direction, 
stood back a little so as to be under her mother’s 
eye, and waited. She was stiff and cold, and she 
stood first on one leg and then on the other, weary 
and impatient at her mother’s lengthy proceedings. 

You can sit down on that bench if you’re tired. 
There’s no extra charge, ” said a harsh voice, ironi- 
cally, close to her ear. 

She turned quickly, and saw a man rather under 
than over the middle height, of spare figure and 
hard-featured face, who was standing by the book- 
stall, turning over the leaves of a Christmas num- 
ber. He wore a long frieze overcoat which envel- 
oped him from his chin to his heels, and a little 
cap to match which hid his eyes. 

Little as she could see of him, Chris instantly 
jumped to the conclusion that this was Mr. Brad- 
field himself. 

“He wouldn’t order me about like that if he 
were not,” she said to herself. And she felt 
rather frightened, wondering how her mother 
would receive this style of address, and picturing 
to herself the “ awful row” there would be between 
the two at or very soon after their first interview. 

She said “ Thank you” rather timidly, and took 
the suggestion offered rather to prevent further 
conversation than because she wished to rest. 
When her mother had finished with the luggage, 
Chris ran toward her, to check any verbal indis- 
cretion of the kind she had been indulging in on 
the way down, concerning the supposed unpleasant 
idiosyncrasies of the master of Wyngham House. 


THE GREAT MAN OF A LITTLE TOWN 19 

But she was too late. 

“Very bucolic domestics this gentleman seems 
to have. Let us hope we shall not see his char- 
acteristics repeated in the master,” said Mrs. 
Abercarne in a voice loud enough for the man at 
the book-stall to hear, as she and her daughter 
met. 

The man in the frieze overcoat turned round, 
and regarded the speaker with an amused stare 
which that lady chose to consider very offensive. 
She turned her back upon him sharply, therefore, 
as she went on speaking to Chris, who looked 
frightened. The man in the frieze coat walked 
away. 

“ What extremely bad manners these rustics 
have!” exclaimed Mrs. Abercarne before he was 
well out of hearing. 

“Sh — sh, mamma, we don’t know who he is,” 
said Chris in a terror-struck whisper. 

Mrs. Abercarne was going to retort rather 
sharply, when a thought, a suspicion — perhaps the 
same that had alarmed her daughter — made her 
pause and turn abruptly to the porter who was 
standing behind her. 

“Who is that man?” she asked quickly. 

“Which man, ma’am?” 

“ The man in the long coat, the man who was 
standing at the book-stall.” 

The porter stared at her. He seemed to think 
she must be joking to make such an inquiry and 
in such a tone. 

“ The gentleman who has just gone out, ma’am,” 


20 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


ejaculated he, repeating her words with a differ- 
ence, “ why, that gentleman is Mr. Bradfield of the 
Lodge !” 

And he made this announcement in the tone of 
one who rebukes a blasphemer. 


CHAPTER II. 

THE GREAT MAN’S HOUSE. 

Poor Mrs. Abercarne tried to look as if she 
didn’t mind, but the attempt was a failure. It 
was with uneasy hearts and troubled countenances 
that both she and her daughter went through the 
station and got into the comfortable carriage which 
was waiting for them outside. 

Then, when they were well on their way, Chris 
rashly tried to comfort her. 

“Never mind, mother,” whispered she, tucking 
her hand lovingly under her mother’s arm, and 
speaking in a bright voice which expressed more 
cheerfulness than she felt, “perhaps he didn’t 
hear. And — and after all, you didn’t say any- 
thing so very dreadful, did you?” she added, try- 
ing to ignore those awful last words about the bad 
manners of rustics. “ I dare say he knows himself 
that his footman looks rather round-faced and 
rosy.” 

“Indeed, Chris, it matters very little to me 
whether he heard or not,” answered Mrs. Aber- 


THE GREAT MAN^S HOUSE. 


21 


came quickly. These people must expect to hear 
the truth of themselves sometimes; and it cannot 
possibly affect us, for, as you know, we have only 
come here, as one may say, for the fun of the 
thing, and nothing would induce us to stay here 
permanently in the house of such a barbaric per- 
son as you can see for yourself this Mr. Bradfield 
is.” 

And Mrs. Abercarne, having run herself quite 
out of breath in her haste to persuade Chris that 
her conduct had been singularly discreet and full 
of tact, sat back and looked out of the carriage- 
window at the sea. 

Chris had the wisdom to murmur, “Yes, 
mamma,” and then to say nothing more except a 
few comments on the street through which they 
were passing. She was dreading the reception 
they would meet with at the hands of the justly 
offended owner of Wyngham Lodge. For the 
first time she realized the disagreeable nature of 
their position, the fact that they came, not as 
visitors, but as hired dependents on the good pleas- 
ure of a stranger, who could, if he chose, even 
send them about their business with the curt in- 
timation that their services would not be wanted. 

To dispel these gloomy thoughts, or at least to 
prevent her mother from guessing what troubled 
her, Chris looked about her as they drove along. 

She saw in the first place that Wyngham was a 
garrison town, for the red coats of soldiers made 
pleasant spots of color in the straight, narrow old 
street. This street changed gradually in char- 


22 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


acter, until the shops and inns gave place to houses 
of a more or less modern type, and at last these 
dwellings came to an abrupt end on one side of the 
road, and there was nothing but a strip of waste 
land, and a strip beyond that of sharply shelving 
beach, between them and the sea. 

Chris, straining her eyes in the darkness, could 
see lights twinkling on the ships as they passed, 
and she gave a cry of delight. She had lived near 
the sea at one time, for Mrs. Abercarne had had a 
house at Southsea in her more prosperous days. 
But it was some years since that bright period was 
over, and Chris had grown reconciled to the fogs 
of London since then. The sight and the smell of 
the sea, however, filled her with vivid sensations 
of pleasure. She remembered the bright sun and 
the breezy walks, and her heart seemed to rise at a 
bound, only to sink the next moment with the des- 
pairing thought that her mother had made their 
stay in this delightful place impossible. 

The same thought may have crossed her mother’s 
mind also, for Mrs. Abercarne made no comment 
on her daughter’s exclamations of pleasure, but sat 
in silence for the rest of the drive. 

Wyngham House was a little way out of the 
town, and was so close to the sea that the ocean 
looked, as Chris afterward expressed it, like a lake 
in the grounds. It was approached from the in- 
land side by a short carriage drive, and was sur- 
rounded by grounds of some natural beauty but of 
no great pretension. The house, which was built 
in the Italian style, and painted white, was large 


THE GREAT MAN'S HOUSE. 


23 


and rather pretty. It was approached by a porch 
in which, as the carriage drove up, a man-servant 
in livery was waiting to receive the new arrivals. 
Chris peeped about anxiously for the master of the 
house, and even Mrs. Abercarne betrayed to her 
daughter’s eyes certain signs of nervous apprehen- 
sion. But there was no one to be seen except the 
respectful and stolid-looking butler, and a neat 
housemaid who was waiting inside the entrance 
hall to show them upstairs. 

“You would like to go straight up to your 
rooms, ma’am, would you not?” asked the maid, 
smiling. “There is a fire in the drawing-room, 
but it’s only just been lit, and it’s rather cold in 
there.” 

Mrs. Abercarne answered that they should like 
to go to their rooms ; and she spoke very graciously, 
being mollified by the civility of their reception. 
For the butler had even delivered his master’s 
apologies for not receiving them in person, plead- 
ing a business appointment. The sharp eyes of 
Chris, however, detected that a door on the left, 
just inside the inner hall, was ajar, and that a 
hand, wearing a signet-ring which she recognized 
as Mr. Bradfield’s, was visible between the door- 
post and the door. This fact depressed her. 
Surely, if Mr. Bradfield had overlooked her 
mother’s indiscretion, he would, instead of spying 
upon their entrance, have come out and welcomed 
them himself. She felt sure that before the even- 
ing was over there would be a scene which would 
result in their leaving the place. And this thought, 


24 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


which had caused her a little distress before, 
caused her a great deal more now. 

For Chris perceived, as soon as she stepped 
inside the house, that she was in a sort of fairy 
palace, the like of which she had never seen before. 
Both halls were hung with rich tapestries, whether 
old or new she did not know, but the effect of 
which was of luxury, beauty, and romance, which 
fired her young imagination while it charmed her 
eyes. From the ceiling hung lamps of various 
patterns, from the many-colored Chinese lantern, 
with its pictures and hanging strings of beads, to 
the graceful modern Italian lamp of shining silver, 
with its flying cupids and richly ornamented 
chains. Over a beautiful carved marble fire-place 
hung a priceless picture, a genuine Murillo, the 
dark colors of which stood out in sombre relief 
against its massive gilt frame. On each side 
beautiful and interesting objects claimed the atten- 
tion of the new-comers. Chris, younger and more 
impressionable than her mother, lingered behind, 
and cast admiring looks at Florentine cabinets, 
rare old china vases and trophies of ancient 
armor, which were among the beautiful and curi- 
ous things with which the inner hall was stored. 

Turning to the left, they came to the staircase, 
the balustrade of which was so elaborately carved 
as to be magnificent to the eye, and particularly 
uncomfortable to the hand. 

“ That’s the study,” whispered the housemaid as 
she led them past a door on the left, up the first 
short flight of stairs. 


THE GREAT MAN^S HOUSE. 


25 


And from the respectful glance and the lowered 
tone, Chris guessed that the master of the house 
passed most of his time in that apartment, and also 
that he was held in some awe by his servants. 

They passed on, up a second flight of stairs, to 
the right, noticing as they went a dazzling collec- 
tion of curious and interesting objects, old hang- 
ing clocks and cupboards, rare Oriental plates and 
bowls, weapons, helmets, and ancient shields. As 
they proceeded up the second flight of stairs, they 
found themselves surrounded on all sides by pic- 
tures, old and new, paintings in oils and drawings 
in water-color, with which the walls were so well 
covered that scarcely a glimpse could be caught of 
the dark red distemper which was the background 
to the gilt frames. 

At the top of the stairs they came to a corridor 
which ran the whole length of the main body of 
the house; and this was a veritable museum of 
beautiful and curious cabinets, high-backed chairs, 
the seats of which were covered with ancient 
tapestry, Dresden clock models of Indian temples, 
canoes, and of curiosities so many and so various 
that Chris grew confused, and walked as if in a 
dream, with only one conscious thought — the fear 
of falling against some precious rarity and draw- 
ing upon herself eternal disgrace and confusion. 

Mrs. Abercarne, being, although she would not 
betray the fact, full of nervous apprehension as 
well as of vexation at her altered and degraded 
position, saw less than her daughter did. But 
even she, with her additional advantage of being 


26 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


short-sighted, began to be aware that her sur- 
roundings were of a very exceptional kind. 

“Dear me!” she exclaimed, stopping short and 
raising the gold double eye-glass she carried, as a 
beautiful porcelain vase caught her eye. “ Why, 
that must be Dresden, old Dresden. Your master 
has very excellent taste. There are some beautiful 
things here. It’s quite a museum !” 

She spoke in a patronizing manner to the maid, 
glad of an opportunity to show what a very supe- 
rior person she was. For a taste for old china does 
not come by nature. 

But the housemaid was a superior person also. 

“ Oh, yes,” she answered with surprise. “ Don’t 
you know that Mr. Bradfield’s collection is famous, 
and that people write and ask him to see it quite 
as if he w^as royalty? We’ve had a duke here, 
looking at those very things, and wishing they 
were his, and saying so !” 

And the maid smiled wuth a sense of her own 
share in the glory that the duke’s visit had cast 
upon the establishment. 

They^ went the whole length of the corridor, and 
were shown into a bedroom on the right, the win- 
dow of which looked inland. It was rather a small 
room, this fact being emphasized by the quantity 
of handsome and costly furniture with which it 
w^as filled. Before a carved white stone fire-place, 
fitted with pretty tiles, another housemaid was 
kneeling. She started up when the ladies came in. 

“I beg your pardon, ma’am,” said she, “the 
fire will draw up directly, and the room will soon 


THE GREAT MAN'S HOUSE. 


27 


be warm. It was only ten minutes ago master 
told me you were to have this room, instead of the 
one in the wing.” 

Chris caught a frown from the other housemaid 
intimating that this information was not wanted. 
Then, the second housemaid having said that she 
would bring them some hot water, the ladies were 
left to themselves. 

Chris, tired as she was, spent the next ten min- 
utes alternately in an ecstasy of high spirits and a 
fit of deep depression, the former the result of her 
delight in her surroundings, the latter the effect of 
her belief that she would soon have to leave them. 

‘‘I wonder why he ordered our room to be 
changed!” she whispered to her mother, as she 
admired in turn the handsome brass bedstead wiih 
its spread of silk and lace, t’lie rosewood furniture, 
the little lady’s writing-table, the cozy sofa and 
easy -chair. “ Have we been sent up, or sent down? 
If we have been sent up, the bedroom in the wing 
must have been gorgeous indeed. Mother, this 
bed is too magnificent to sleep in ; and as for the 
so-called dressing-room next door,” and she peeped 
through a door which communicated with a second 
and rather smaller room, “ it is a cross between a 
museum and a palatial boudoir.” 

Mrs. Abercarne, of course, took these marvels 
more quietly. She understood quite well that she 
was in an exceptionally beautiful and well-fitted 
house; but she did not care to acknowledge that it 
was anything out of the common to her. The in- 
genuous delight of Chris, therefore, rather annoyed 


28 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


her, so that at last the girl had to become 
apologetic. 

“ Yon know, mother,” she whispered humbly, “ I 
have never seen anything so beautiful in all my 
life as this place, and I can’t help noticing it. 
You see, you were well off once and used to beau- 
tiful houses. But you know that to me everything 
seems new and wonderful.” 

And Mrs. Abercarne repented of her petulant re- 
buke, remembering with tears in her eyes that Chris 
had had indeed very little experience of luxury. 

They had been told that dinner would be ready 
in a few minutes, so Chris opened the door a little 
way, waiting for a further announcement to be 
made to them. At the opposite side of the corri- 
dor, and a little nearer than their door to the very 
end of it, a maid-servant was coming in and out 
of another door. A few steps further down the 
maid was met by a footman with a tray. He 
began to express his feelings in tones which 
reached the ears of Chris. 

‘^Well, this is a rum start!” he said confi- 
dentially to the housemaid as he passed her. 
“Everything was ready for two in the house- 
keeper’s room, but now it seems that the basement 
isn’t good enough, and we’re to dine upstairs like 
the quality.” 

“Hold your tongue,” whispered the girl, laugh- 
ing. “ Be a good boy, and you will see what you 
will see.” 

And she tripped past him, and left him to go on 
his way along the corridor. 


THE GREAT MAN^S HOUSE. 


29 


Chris did not repeat to her mother the scrap of 
conversation she had overheard, but it increased 
her own feelings of curiosity and bewilderment. 

‘^Do you think Mr. Bradfield will dine with 
us, mother?” she asked as she softly closed the 
door. 

The words were hardly out of her mouth when 
there was a knock at the door, and the footman 
announced that dinner was ready for them in the 
Chinese room. The two ladies were then shown 
into an apartment so pretty that Chris felt con- 
strained to keep her eyes down, in deference to her 
mother’s wishes, lest her unseemly delight should 
be noticed by the servants. 

It was, indeed, a most beautiful room which they 
now entered. Windows on two sides were at this 
time covered by the drawn curtains ; and these, of 
dark blue silk richly embroidered with conven- 
tional Chinese figures, gave a striking character to 
the apartment. The walls were lined with book, 
cases, well filled with books, while in the corner- 
close to a fire-place beautifully decorated in the 
modern style, a piano stood temptingly open. A 
cabinet entirely full of Chinese models and toys 
carved in ivory filled the remaining space against 
the walls, while under one window stood a long 
writing-table, and under the other two low-seated 
easy-chairs. In the middle of the room a small 
table had been laid for dinner for two persons, and 
this again excited the admiration of Chris by the 
quaint beauty of the old silver, and the magnifi- 
cence of the Crown Derby dinner service. 


30 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


The room was lighted entirely by wax candles 
in massive silver candlesticks, and this luxurious 
light completed the charm which her surroundings 
had thrown over Chris. The girl had been hun- 
gry on her first arrival, but she now found herself 
too much excited to eat. She felt that in this 
house of marvels something must surely be going 
to happen, and each time the door opened she 
glanced toward it with eager eyes. 

When at last the crowning charm of the meal 
had arrived, in the shape of dessert served on the 
daintiest of Sevres china, and the footman had 
left them to themselves, Chris drew a long 
breath. 

“Mamma,” she said in a voice in which girlish 
merriment struggled with a little real awe, “ this 
is too much. It is so mysterious that it frightens 
me. All this magnificence just for the house- 
keeper and her daughter! Everything served 
in the most gorgeous manner, and no master to 
be seen. Why, it’s just like Beauty and the 
Beast !” 

A short laugh frightened her so much that she 
started up from her chair. Mr. Bradfield, in a 
rough shooting-suit, stood just inside the room. 

“That’s it. Miss Abernethy, or Miss Apricot, or 
whatever your name is,” said he grimly. “And 
I’m the Beast.” 


THE GREAT MAN'S SMILE. 


31 


CHAPTER III. 

THE GREAT MAN’S SMILE. 

Chris had jumped up from her chair in an un- 
controllable impulse of terror at the sound of Mr. 
Bradfield’s voice, although he spoke in tones which 
betrayed more amusement than annoyance. She 
looked so much alarmed that even her mother 
smiled, while the great man himself nearly laughed 
outright. 

“ Ah, ha !” said he, shaking his head in pretended 
menace, “you did not think you would so soon 
hear him roar, did you?” 

Chris, still white, and with the tears starting to 
her eyes, stammered some sort of incoherent 
apology. Mrs. Abercarne, pitying the poor child, 
who was indeed most miserable at this fresh mis- 
hap, addressed the dreaded employer in stately and 
dignified fashion. 

“You must forgive my daughter, sir,” she 
began with a great affectation of deference. In- 
deed, her humility was so deep, so labored in 
expression as to constitute almost an offence, im- 
plying as it did that her natural position was so 
lofty that it required a good deal of make-believe 
to bring herself into a semblance of inferiority to 
him. “She had no intention of offending you, I 
can assure you. Her words were merely idle ones, 


32 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


uttered in girlish folly, and without the slightest 
idea that you were near enough to overhear them.” 

Mrs. Abercarne slightly emphasized these last 
words, just to remind him that in approaching 
without warning he had committed a breach of 
what she considered good form. 

So far from appearing to be impressed by the 
gentle rebuke, Mr. Bradfield proceeded to offend 
more deeply. Merely nodding to the elder lady, 
without the formality of a glance in her direction, 
he kept his eyes fixed upon Chris as he took a step 
forward which brought him into the corner by the 
piano and in front of the fire-place. Here he stood 
for a few moments in perfect silence, still looking 
at the young girl, and rubbing his hands softly, the 
one over the other, in the warmth of the fire. 
Chris, who instead of being pale was now crimson, 
looked at the carpet and remained standing, wish- 
ing she had never persuaded her mother to take 
this degrading position, and feeling acutely that 
if they had come as visitors and not as dependents 
Mr. Bradfield would never have dared to stare at 
her in this persistent and insulting manner. 

Mrs. Abercarne, older and more self-possessed, 
was able to get a good view of the man on whom 
so much now depended, and to form some sort of 
opinion as to their chances of staying in this lux- 
urious home. 

Mr. Bradfield was not handsome, neither was he 
of very distinguished a-ppearance. A little below 
the middle height, neither stout nor thin, there 
was nothing more striking about him than his 


THE GREAT MAN^S S3IILE. 


33 


very black whiskers, mustache, and eyebrows, 
and a certain steady stare of his sharp gray eyes 
which was rather disconcerting, since it gave the 
idea that he was always furtively taking stock of 
the person on whom his eyes were fixed. 

“Girlish folly!” he repeated at last. “Do you 
plead guilty to that. Miss — Miss — ” Here he 
paused, hunted in his pockets, and producing Mrs. 
Abercarne’s letter turned to the signature. “ Miss 
Abercarne. You must excuse me, but I have had 
a good deal of correspondence the last few days, 
and I haven’t taken proper note of your name. 
Now,” he went on, still ignoring the elder lady 
altogether, “do you still plead guilty to girlish 
folly, Miss Abercarne?” 

“Yes,” murmured Chris, “and I am very 
sorry.” 

“Not at all, not at all. You were quite right. 
I am a beast, and you — well, you know best 
whether the other title applies to you.” 

“ My daughter would be the last person to think 
so,” broke in Mrs. Abercarne, with just enough 
emphasis to show that it was to herself that he 
ought to be addressing his conversation. “She 
would no more think of calling herself a beauty 
than she would of — of 

“Calling me a beast?” added Mr. Bradfield, 
turning upon her so quickly that she drew her 
breath sharply as if she had been frightened. 
“Well, and where would be the harm when her 
mother set her the example? Oh, you can’t deny 
it. What was it I heard you say about me at the 
3 


34 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


station? That I was more of a rustic than my 
own servants, and that my manners were — I for- 
get what, but you remember, I dare say. Perhaps 
you will be kind enough to repeat your criticism 
now that we are both calm, and I will try and 
profit by it.” 

It was Mrs. Abercarne’s turn to be out of coun- 
tenance, and her daughter’s to glance at her in 
some amusement. For Chris saw by Mr. Brad- 
field’s manner that she and her mother would 
not have to suffer for their verbal indiscre- 
tions. 

“You must have misunderstood what I said,” 
said Mrs. Abercarne, regaining her composure 
again very quickly and speaking with a bland 
dignity which made contradiction almost an im- 
possibility. 

But Mr. Bradfield was a man used to performing 
impossibilities, and he laughed in her face. 

“ Not a bit of it,” said he shortly. “ It was the 
truth of your observation that made it so striking. 
I am a rustic, and as bucolic-looking as my ser- 
vants. There’s just the hope, of course, that the 
influence of your own grand manners may have a 
good effect upon mine.” 

“Indeed,” said Mrs. Abercarne with spirit, “I 
should have thought, sir, that if you believe us 
capable of so much rudeness, you would scarcely 
wish us, or rather wish me,” she corrected, “to 
enter your — your — your service.” 

She got the obnoxious word out at last, with the 
same deliberate emphasis that she had used on the 


THE GREAT MAN^S SMILE, 


35 


word sir.” Mr. Bradfield evidently got impatient. 

“I told you I didn’t mind,” he said shortl3^ 

What does it matter what you please to think of 
me or m}^ manners? If you had thought my looks 
or my manners so important you would have made 
inquiries about them before coming, wouldn’t you? 
You would have written, ‘Dear Sir — Please send 
reference as to your appearance and general be- 
havior. ’ As you didn’t write like that, I take it for 
granted you did not care what my manners were, 
any more than I cared about yours. I take it that 
our coming together was a matter of mutual con- 
venience, and that as long as we don’t get in each 
other’s way, we need trouble ourselves no more 
about each other’s personality than if we were in 
separate hemispheres. Well, then, I can promise 
you at least that I won’t get in your way more 
than I can help.” 

Mr. Bradfield delivered this speech with his 
back to the fire and his hands clasped behind him. 
From time to time as he spoke, he cast furtive 
glances at Chris, but he did not look once at the 
lady he was addressing. Mrs. Abercarne, how- 
ever, had made up her mind to put up with his 
peculiarities, so she uttered a curious little sound 
which passed by courtesy for a laugh of appreci- 
ation of his humor, and graciously expressed her 
own gratitude and her daughter’s for his kind re- 
ception of them. 

“ My only fear is that you are spoiling us by 
treating us too well, sir,” she concluded. 

Again she rolled out the sir” in the manner of a 


36 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


duchess conversing with a prince. Mr. Bradfield 
winced perceptibly. 

“You needn’t say ‘sir’ if you don’t like it,” said 
he dryly. “It doesn’t seem to agree with you. 
Glad you’re pleased. You can have this room to 
yourselves if you like; I don’t use it much. And 
anything you want let me know of at once. You 
needn’t come to me,” he continued quickly, “but 
just send word. I want you to be comfortable, 
very comfortable. Perkins will give you the keys 
and all that. And— and I hope you’ll be happy 
here.” 

Again he glanced at the girl as he walked rap- 
idly to the door, nodded good-night, and went out. 

For a few moments after they were left alone 
together, neither mother nor daughter uttered a 
single word. They glanced at the door as if de- 
termined not to commit further indiscretions by 
hazarding any comment on Mr. Bradfield until he 
had had time to take himself to the remotest part 
of the house. At last, when each had well con- 
sidered the countenance of the other, Mrs. Aber- 
carne spoke. 

“ A very kindly, hospitable man, and very for- 
giving too, don’t you think so, my dear?” were 
her first words. 

Chris stared at her mother, and then at the door. 
Surely Mrs. Abercarne must have an idea that she 
could be overheard, or she would never perjure 
herself in this fashion! The elder lady went 
smoothly on, without appearing to notice her 
daughter’s hesitation in answering. 


THE GREAT MAN^S SMILE, 


37 


little brusque, a little unpolished perhaps, 
but a thoroughly honest fellow, without hypocrisy, 
and without affectation. The sort of man one in- 
stinctively feels that one can trust.” 

And Mrs. Abercarne crossed the* room to the 
fireside, and settled herself comfortably in an easy- 
chair, with her feet on the fender-stool. 

Then Chris, perceiving that there was some 
occult meaning in all this, replied discreetly : 

“ I am glad you think so well of him, mother. 
But I — I shouldn’t have thought he was the kind 
of man you would have taken such a fancy to. ” 

“ Ah, my dear, you girls always judge by the 
exterior,” exclaimed Mrs. Abercarne, as she took 
up her knitting and began counting the stitches. 
‘‘ But I should have thought that at any rate Mr. 
Bradfield’s talk would have amused you.” 

“Why, so it did, mother.” 

Chris had grown very quiet, and was pondering 
the situation. She began to have a faint suspicion 
of the direction whither these remarks were tend- 
ing, and some words which presently fell from her 
mother’s lips confirmed it. 

“I wonder, Chris,” she said softly, running her 
fingers gently up and down one of the steel knit- 
ting-pins, “whether Mr. Bradfield is a bachelor, 
or a widower, or what!” 

“ I don’t know, I’m sure, mother,” answered the 
young girl demurely. 

Then there was silence for a short space, and 
when Mrs. Abercarne spoke again it was about 
something else. By tacit agreement the master of 


38 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


the house was not mentioned again by either of the 
ladies until they had retired to rest. 

Then Mrs. Abercarne heard a voice calling 
softly ; “ Mother !” and she perceived by the light 

of the fire a pair of very wide-awake eyes on the 
pillow beside hers. 

“Yes, dear?” 

“ Why do people always think that honesty 
must go with rough manners?” 

Mrs. Abercarne could not answer her. So she 
affected to laugh at the words as if they were a 
jest. But presently she asked, in a rather tentative 
tone; 

“Don’t you like Mr. Bradfield then?” 

And the answer came very decidedly indeed : 

“ No, mother, I don’t like him at all.” 


CHAPTER IV. 

THE GREAT MAN FROWNS. 

The next morning Chris was awakened by a 
stream of bright light coming between the window- 
curtains, and when she looked out of the window 
she gave a scream of delight. 

“ Oh, mother, mother, this can’t be really No- 
vember, or we can’t be really in foggy England !” 
she cried in an ecstasy, as she drank in with 
greedy eyes all the loveliness of fresh green grass 
and the varied tints of trees in Autumn. 


THE GREAT MAN FROWNS. 


39 


Their bedroom was at the front of the house, and 
looked inland over the flower-garden and the park. 
The beauty of the place became still more striking 
to their London eyes when they went into the 
Chinese room and saw the view southward over 
the sea and westward along the country road to 
Little Wyngham, a mile away. 

But while Chris was chiefly occupied with the 
outlook from the windows, Mrs. Abercarne’s at- 
tention was directed to the interior of the house, 
and she made some discoveries in the broad day- 
light which the gracious glamour of candles had 
concealed from her. Curious lapses of knowledge 
or taste now betrayed themselves ; she perceived a 
valuable oil-painting hanging on the wall between 
a chromo and an oleograph. A rare edition of 
Shakespeare stood in the bookcase side by side 
with one which was cheap, worthless and modern ; 
in china the collector’s lack of taste was still more 
evident : old and new, good and bad, were treated 
on equal terms. 

She made no comment aloud, however, having, 
after the experience of the previous evening, a dis- 
creet fear of being mysteriously overheard. 

When they had breakfasted the head housemaid 
came up with a message from Mr. Bradfield to 
the effect that he hoped they would begin the day 
by inspecting the house and particularly his 
“collection.” 

“We shall be delighted,” said Mrs. Abercarne. 
“ And where is the special collection Mr. Bradfield 
wishes us to see?” 


40 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


‘^It isn’t anywhere specially,” answered the 
woman, a gloomy-eyed and severe person who had 
lived “ in noblemen’s families” and who felt her 
own condescension in occupying her present situ- 
ation most deeply. “ The things are all over the 
place. There are no galleries.” 

charming arrangement!” murmured Mrs. 
Abercarne ; “ so much better than the usual formal 
disposal of art treasures as if in a museum !” 

So they made the tour of the mansion, which 
was a singularly ill-arranged building in the style 
of a rabbit-warren, full of nooks which were not 
cosy, and of corners which were well adapted for 
nothing except dust. Solemnly they passed down 
the corridor, the gloomy-eyed housemaid giving 
them as they went a catalogue-like description of 
the various “ objects of interest” as they passed 
them. 

“Model of an ironclad, fitted with turret-guns, 
torpedo-catcher and all the latest improvements. 
Specimen of pottery taken from an ancient Egyp- 
tian tomb. Inlaid cabinet brought by Mr. Brad- 
field from a Florentine palace,” chanted the house- 
maid. 

“ Beautiful ! What a charming design ! How 
very interesting, Chris,” murmured Mrs. Aber- 
carne. 

But Chris, whose taste was raw and undevel- 
oped, was paying small attention to ancient pottery 
and torpedo-catchers. Her attention had been 
attracted by something which seemed to her to 
promise more human interest than paintings or old 


THE GREAT MAN FROWNS. 


41 


china. The corridor in which they were ran 
straight through the house, past the head of the 
front and of the back staircases, into a wing which 
had been added to the east sea-front. From be- 
hind one of the doors in this wing strange noises 
began to reach the ears of Chris, who presently 
noticed that the housemaid, while still monoto- 
nously chanting her description, glanced alter- 
nately at the door in question and at Chris herself, 
as if wondering what the young lady thought of 
the unusual sounds. 

It was not until they had passed the head of the 
principal staircase, by which time the noise had 
grown louder and more continuous, that Mrs. 
Abercarne’s attention also was attracted. An un- 
earthly groan made her start and turn to the 
housemaid, who, taking no apparent notice, pro- 
ceeded to lead the way downstairs. 

“What’s that?” exclaimed Mrs. Abercarne, as 
she glanced nervously at the door from behind 
which the noises came. At the same moment the 
door was shaken violently, and there was a loud 
crash, as if some heavy body had been thrown 
against it. 

“And this,” went on the housemaid calmly, 
pointing to a picture over her head, “ is one of Sir 
Edwin Landseer’s, while the one on your left is 
the portrait of a lady by Sir Thomas Lawrence.” 

“Oh, indeed,” murmured Mrs. Abercarne, in a 
rather less enthusiastic voice than before. 

They went on through the inner hall, the dining- 
room, two magnificent drawing-rooms, and a 


42 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


wretched little library, for the smallness of which 
the housemaid gloomily apologized. “Mr. Brad- 
field’s books, like the rest of the things, were scat- 
tered in all directions about the house,” she said. 

But Mrs. Abercarne was no longer charmed by 
this arrangement. The poor lady was really 
alarmed, and even the imposing proportions of the 
drawing-room and the display of magnificent old 
plate in the dining-room failed to rekindle her ad- 
miration. They visited the basement, where the 
cook and the rest of the household were for- 
mally presented to her, and then she herself cut 
short the inspection and returned upstairs. She 
lingered, as Chris and the housemaid behind her 
were forced to linger too, on the staircase. They 
were opposite a door which the housemaid had not 
opened; it was Mr. Bradfield’s study, she said. 
Just as Mrs. Abercarne was about to ask a question 
about the strange noises, the door from which they 
had issued was opened quickly, and a man servant 
out of livery, who looked heated, disordered and 
breathless, ran out and locked it quickly behind 
him. 

In answer to an inquiry, not spoken but looked 
by the housemaid, the man said briefiy : “ It’s 

all right. He’s quiet now,” and disappeared 
quickly down the back staircase. 

Mrs. Abercarne drew a long breath which 
sounded almost like a stifled scream : Chris looked 
fixedly at the locked door. 

“ What door is that?” she asked. 

The housemaid, after hesitating a moment, and 


THE GREAT MAN FROWNS. 


43 


glancing toward the door of the study, answered 
in a low voice : 

“Those are Mr. Richard’s rooms.” 

“And who is Mr. Richard?” asked Mrs. 
Abercarne. 

The woman did not immediately answer. Dur- 
ing the short pause which succeeded the lady’s 
question, the study was opened suddenly, and Mr. 
Bradfield came out, looking very angry. 

“ Now haven’t I told you not to make a mystery 
about Mr. Richard?” said he sharply to the house- 
maid. “ What do you mean by frightening these 
poor ladies out of their wits with your mysteri- 
ous nods and winks — you and Stelfox, the pair 
of you ? Why can’t you answer a simple 
question straightforwardly, and have done with 
it?” 

The housemaid remained silent, and looked down 
at the floor. 

“ I thought, sir — I thought perhaps the ladies 
might be alarmed — ” she began. 

“Alarmed!” echoed Mr. Bradfleld impatiently. 
“ And who knows better than yourself that there 
is nothing to be alarmed about?” Dismissing the 
woman with a wave of the hand, he turned to the 
ladies. “ It is only a poor young lad, the son of 
an old clerk of mine. He is not quite as bright as 
he might be, poor fellow, but I can’t bear to send 
him to a home or an asylum or anything of that 
sort. I should never feel sure how they were treat- 
ing him. But he is harmless, I assure you — per- 
fectly, entirely harmless.” 


44 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


Mrs. Abercarne professed herself completely 
satisfied with this explanation, and affected, out 
of courtesy, to applaud Mr. Bradfield’s humanity 
in keeping him under his own roof. But when 
she and her daughter were alone again, safe in their 
own room, the elder lady turned the key hastily 
and confided her fears to her daughter in a tremu- 
lous whisper. 

‘‘ It’s all very well for Mr. Bradfield to say this 
lunatic’s harmless,” she said close to her daugh- 
ter’s ear, “but I don’t believe it. If he were 
harmless, why should he be kept in rooms by him- 
self, and be locked in? No, Chris; depend upon 
it he’s ^ dangerous lunatic, and that man who 
rushed out is his keeper. He had been struggling 
with him ; we heard him ! And you could see it 
by the look of the man. Now this is a beautiful 
house, and I dare say it would be comfortable 
enough without Master Richard. As it is, I don’t 
intend to remain under the same roof with a rav- 
ing madman for another night.” 


CHAPTER V. 

MASTER AND MAN. 

To have a raving lunatic under the same roof 
with you is an experience which appeals differently 
to different minds. To the middle-aged it is a fact 
calculated to send a “cold shiver down the back,” 


MASTER AND MAN 


45 


while to the very young it suggests untold possi- 
bilities of danger and excitement. 

It is not surprising therefore that, while Mrs. 
Abercarne made up her mind to go as soon as she 
heard of the existence of ‘‘ Mr. Richard,” to Chris 
this was only another inducement to stay. It was 
a hard matter, however, to bring her mother to 
her way of thinking; and when Mrs. Abercarne 
insisted on replacing in her trunks the things 
which she had begun to unpack, the young girl 
almost gave up hoping to change her determination. 

“ Now I shall go downstairs and knock at the 
door of the study, and explain to Mr. Bradfield 
how impossible it is that we should remain here 
under the circumstances,” said the elder lady de- 
cidedly, as she straightened the lace she wore round 
her neck, preparatory to making an imposing en- 
trance into her emplo3"er’s presence. 

“ But, mother, you told him just now that 3"ou 
were not a bit frightened, and he will think 3^ou 
are very changeable to have altered your mind so 
soon !” 

“I have had time to think it over,” explained 
her mother rather weakly. “ One does not see 
everything in the first minute. And it is not for 
myself I care. But a young girl like you must 
not be exposed to the vagaries of a madman nor live 
in a house that is talked about.” 

Chris was silent. Against those mysterious 
conventions which bound her mother down more 
tightly than prison walls she knew that all her 
arguments, all her persuasions, would be power- 


46 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


less. W ith sorrowful eyes she watched her mother 
finish repacking, shut down the lid of the last 
portmanteau, and leave the room with the firm 
steps of a woman who has finally and firmly made 
up her mind. 

Then Chris went into the beautiful Chinese 
room, and looked lovingly round the walls and 
longingly out of the window. She had never been 
inside a house half so nice as this, she thought, 
and she had not yet got over the first ecstasy of 
joy on finding what a beautiful place they were to 
have for a home. Now they would have to go 
back to London, she supposed ; and as their own 
house had been given up and the furniture sold, 
they would have to take cheap and dreary lodgings 
until they could find some other engagement. And 
when would they be so lucky as to find another 
together? 

Chris was not more inclined to tears than other 
girls of her age, but the weight of the woes upon 
her gradually grew too heavy to be borne without 
some outward demonstration. 

So that when at last the door opened to admit, 
as she supposed, her mother, Chris was curled up 
in one of the low arm-chairs by the window, and 
could not for shame exhibit her tear-stained face. 

“Oh, mother,” she sobbed without looking up, 
“ how can you have the heart to leave this lovely 
place to go back to that hateful London? We 
should have been so happy here; I’m sure we 
should !” 

“ There !” exclaimed a man’s gruff voice loudly. 


MASTER AND MAN 


47 


And Mr. Bradfield, for he was the intruder, burst 
into a loud ironical laugh. 

Chris sprang up, and dried her eyes hastily, 
overwhelmed with confusion. 

Her mother, not so fleet of foot as the man, was 
only just entering the room; her face bore an ex- 
pression of great vexation. 

“ There !” repeated Mr. Bradfleld, as soon as he 
could speak. “Did you hear that, madam? You 
should have coached your daughter up better. 
You come and tell me that you would be glad to 
stay in my house, but that your daughter is so 
much frightened that she insists on leaving imme- 
diately ; and I come up here, take the young lady 
unaware, and hear her beg not to be taken away ! 
How do you reconcile the two things, Mrs. Aber- 
carne? Answer me that, madam.” 

Even Mrs. Abercarne had no answer ready. 
Chris came to her mother’s rescue. 

“ My mother is quite right,” she said. “ I should 
not care to stay here, although it is such a beauti- 
ful place, now that I know there is a person shut 
up here. I should always be afraid of his getting 
out.” 

Mr. Bradfleld stamped his foot impatiently. 
Since he had been a rich man, he had been used to 
finding a way out of every difficulty, a way to in- 
dulge every whim. 

“ I have told you both that there is no danger ; 
that this unfortunate young man is absolutely 
harmless and inoffensive. You shall hear what 
his attendant says.” 


48 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Mr. Bradfield rang the bell sharply, and told the 
servant who quickly appeared at the summons to 
send Stelfox to him. In the mean time, without 
addressing any further remarks either to mother 
or daughter, he strode up and down the room with 
his hands behind him and his eyes on the carpet. 

In a few minutes there was a knock at the door, 
and the man who had told the housemaid that Mr. 
Richard was quiet now” came in. 

Jim Stelfox was a man about forty-five years of 
age, rather above the medium height, with an 
open, honest and withal resolute-looking face, and 
a straightforward look of the eyes which spoke of 
obstinacy as well as honesty. His hair, which was 
still thick, was iron- gray; so were his trim 
whiskers. His eyes were gray also, hard and 
keen; his mouth was straight, and shut very 
firmly. 

He waited, with his eyes fixed upon his master 
respectfully, to be interrogated. 

“ How many years have you been in my employ- 
ment, Stelfox?” asked Mr. Bradfield. 

“Seventeen years, sir.” 

“ And how many years is it now since you’ve 
had charge of Mr. Richard?” 

“Ten years, sir, on and off; and seven years 
altogether,” answered Stelfox. 

Mr. Bradfield ’s manner grew harsher, more dic- 
tatorial with every succeeding question, almost as 
if each answer of the man had been a fresh 
offence. But Stelfox’s manner never changed : it 
was always respectful, stolid and studiously monot- 


MASTER AND MAN. 


49 


onous. The next question Mr. Bradfield put in a 
louder, angrier voice than ever : 

“And have you ever, in the course of all that 
time, known Mr. Richard do any harm to man, 
woman or child?” 

For about two seconds the man did not answer; 
two seconds in which Chris, rendered curious by 
something in the manner of master and man 
toward each other, awaited quite eagerly some as- 
tonishing reply. She was disappointed : the 
answer came as smoothly and quietly as ever : 

“Never, sir.” 

Mr. Bradfield turned impatiently to the two 
ladies. 

“You hear?” he said triumphantly. “Here is 
the testimony of a man who has been in constant 
attendance upon him for seven years, and in par- 
tial attendance upon him for three more. Can you 
have stronger evidence than that?” 

“ It is quite satisfactory, I am sure,” murmured 
Mrs. Abercarne, who had not the courage to face 
this overbearing man with questions and doubts. 
But Chris was different. Although she longed to 
stay, although the lunatic, harmless or otherwise, 
caused her no fears, she “ wanted to know, you 
know. ” There was some mystery, trivial no doubt, 
about Mr. Richard and his guardian and his 
keeper. 

The manner of the two men toward each other, 
the furtive yet impatient glances with which the 
master regarded the man, the studiously monoto- 
nous and mechanical tone in which the man re- 
4 


50 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


plied to the master, showed that they were not 
quite honest either toward each other or else 
toward her mother and herself. At least this was 
what Chris thought and, without pausing to con- 
sider how her question might be received, she 
broke out : 

“ But, Mr. Bradfield, if he is harmless, why do 
you shut him up?” 

Mrs. Abercarne, although she had not dared to 
put this question herself, looked gratefully at her 
daughter and curiously at her employer. He 
hesitated a moment, and Chris saw Stelfox glance 
at his master with an expression of some amuse- 
ment. 

“Well,” said Mr. Bradfield at last, rather im- 
patiently, “ I am afraid we should none of us find 
the poor fellow a very desirable companion. He 
is very noisy, for one thing.” 

Now both the ladies had had occasion to find out 
that this latter statement was true at any rate, so 
they were silent for a minute. Then Chris, not 
yet satisfied, spoke again : 

“You know,” and she turned to Stelfox, “that 
my mother and I heard you struggling with him, 
and when you came out we heard you say he was 
quiet now, as if you had had some trouble with 
him. How was that, if he is so harmless?” 

Again Stelfox glanced at his master, and 
Chris, following his look, noticed that Mr. Brad- 
field had become deadly white. He stamped im- 
patiently on the floor as he caught his servant’s 
eye. 


MASTER AND MAN 


51 


‘‘Oh,” said Stelfox, after a few seconds’ pause, 
“that was only his rough play.” 

“Then I don’t wonder you keep him shut up,” 
said Chris dryly. 

Mr. Bradfield stared at her, with a frown on his 
face. But Chris did not care; they were going 
away, so she could speak out her mind. There 
was a pause for some moments, and then Mrs. 
Abercarne began to fidget a little, being anxious 
to get away. Mr. Bradfield’s frown cleared away 
as he watched Chris, and at last he said quite 
good-humoredly : 

“ You’re an impudent little piece of goods. And 
so you are going to let my madman frighten you 
away?” 

Chris glanced at her mother. Then she turned 
boldly, with her hands behind her, and faced 
him. 

“Not if it rested with me, Mr. Bradfield.” 

He was evidently delighted by her answer, and 
he began to chuckle good-humoredly, as he signed 
to Stelfox to leave the room. 

“So you would brave the bogies, would you? 
And it is only this haughty mother of yours who 
stands in the way of our all being happy together? 
Now come, Mrs. Abercarne, can you resist the ap- 
peal of youth and beauty? I couldn’t !” 

Mrs. Abercarne, keen witted as she thought her- 
self, had not noticed so much as Chris had done 
in the interview between master and man. On 
the other hand she had taken careful note of the 
manner in which Mr. Bradfield regarded Chris, 


52 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


and prudence began to whisper that in leaving 
Wyngham House, she might be throwing away a 
chance of establishing her daughter in a rather 
magnificent manner. 

So she laughed gently, and showed a disposition 
to temporize. Whereupon Mr. Bradfield seized 
his advantage, laid much stress upon the comfort 
her presence would bestow upon a lonely bachelor, 
and upon the distinguished services her super- 
intendence of his household would render him. 
And Chris joining in his pleadings with eloquent 
eyes and a few incoherent words, they succeeded 
between them in inducing the elder lady to accede 
to their wishes. 

His object once gained, Mr. Bradfield wasted no 
further time with them, but disappeared quickly 
with his usual nod of farewell. Chris, anxious 
not to leave her mother time to waver, ran across 
the corridor to their bedroom, unpacked their 
trunks with rapid hands, and rang the bell for a 
housemaid to take the trunks themselves away to 
one of the lumber-rooms, so that Mrs. Abercarne 
might feel that she had burned her ships. 

Then Chris peeped into the Chinese room, saw 
her mother busy at the writing-table, and guessed 
that she was writing to inform one of her friends 
of her definite arrangement to stay at Wyngham. 
Chris thought it would be better not to interrupt 
her, so she softly closed the door, and went down the 
corridor to make a private inspection of the pictures, 
to fill up the time. 

In one of the odd little passages which branched 


3IASTER AND MAN. 


53 


off to right and left from the corridor, she came 
upon a picture which seemed to her rather more 
interesting than the rest, for it was a figure sub- 
ject, while the rest were chiefiy landscapes. The 
passage was so dark that it was only by opening 
the door of one of the rooms to which it led that 
she could see the picture with any distinctness; 
and it was while she was standing on tip-toe to 
examine it that the sound of stealthy footsteps 
reached her ears. Peeping out from the nook in 
which she stood hidden, Chris saw at the entrance 
of the wing of the house Mr. Bradfield, standing in 
front of the door of “Mr. Richard’s rooms.” He 
was stooping low, with his ear to the crack of the 
door, and his dark face wore an expression of in- 
tense anxiety. She had scarcely had time to notice 
these things when Stelfox came up with absolutely 
silent footsteps behind his master. His face wore 
the same expression of hard, suppressed amusement 
which she had noticed on one occasion in the 
Chinese room. He did not speak to his master, 
but stood waiting, in a respectful attitude, and 
without uttering a sound. Chris thought the 
whole scene rather strange, and instead of retreat- 
ing at once, as she should have done, she kept her 
eyes fixed upon the pair, from her distant corner, 
a few moments longer. 

So she saw Mr. Bradfield raise his head, and 
turn to walk away ; she saw him start at the sight 
of Stelfox, and utter an angry exclamation. 

But this was eavesdropping, so she drew back 
hastily out of sight and hearing. 


54 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Chris could not, however, get out of her mind 
the thought that Mr. Bradfield’s behavior was very 
odd, and that Stelfox’s action in waiting coolly 
there without a word was more odd still. 


CHAPTER VI. 

MUSIC HATH CHARMS. 

To Mrs. Abercarne’s surprise and disappoint- 
ment, but very much to the relief of Chris, the 
ladies saw but little of Mr. Bradfield in the first 
days of their sojourn at Wyngham House. Apart 
from this, which she considered rather disrespect- 
ful and decidedly unappreciative, the elder lady 
had little to complain of. She found herself abso- 
lute mistress of the establishment, with no one to 
interfere with her, no one to dispute her orders. 
The word had evidently gone forth that her will 
was to be law, and her power in every department 
of the household was unlimited. The only thing 
she ever wanted in vain was an interview with the 
master of the house. If she knocked at the door 
of the study, he answered politely from within that 
he was busy, and requested her to let him know 
what she wanted by letter. Then she would write 
an elaborately courteous note, concerning the dis- 
missal of a servant, or a necessary outlay in re- 
pairs. His answer was always short, and always 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS. 


55 


to the same effect : she was to do exactly what she 
pleased, and the expense was immaterial. 

With her complaints to Chris that they had very 
little of his society, her daughter had no S5nnpathy 
whatever. She did not care for M.f. Bradfield; 
she was rather afraid of him: and to enjoy his 
house without his presence was, to her thinking, 
an absolutely perfect condition of things. It was 
not to continue indefinitely, however. 

Mrs. Abercarne, whose respect for the old china 
about the house was at least as great as that of 
its possessor, had assigned to her daughter the 
duty of dusting and taking care of it. The sight 
of old Dresden in the hands of a common domestic 
parlormaid made her shiver, she said. 

So every morning it was the task of Chris to 
make what she called the grand tour, armed with 
a pair of dust-bellows and a duster, and provided 
with an old pair of gloves to keep her hands, as 
her mother said, “like those of a gentlewoman.” 

One morning when she had got as far as the 
drawing-room, and was blowing the dust from a 
Sevres cup and saucer, her eye was caught by a 
Canterbur}" full of music, which stood beside the 
piano. Her mother was busy in the basement ; Mr. 
Bradfield was never anywhere near. So Chris 
slipped off her gloves, and went down on her knees, 
and turned over the music to see what there was. 
She had the carpet about her well strewn before 
she found anything to her liking. Then, having 
come upon a book of ancient dance music, she 
opened the piano, and began very softly to try an 


56 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


old waltz tune. She had played very few bars 
when the door opened, and Mr. Bradfield looked in. 

Chris started up, crimson, feeling that she had 
done something very dreadful. She thought he 
would burst out into some rude remark about the 
strumming disturbing him. But he only strolled 
as far as the fireplace, which was half way toward 
her, put his hands behind his back, nodded, and 
said : 

“ Go on.” 

As he did not smile, or speak very kindly, Chris 
found it impossible to obey. She thought, indeed, 
that the command was given ironically. 

“ I — I was only trying a few bars. I — I am very 
sorry I disturbed you. But I didn’t know you 
could hear. I thought you were deaf,” stammered 
Chris. 

Mr. Bradfield looked up at her with a slight 
frown. No man approaching fifty cares to be re- 
minded, especially by a pretty young woman, of 
the infirmities which must inevitably overtake 
him before many years were over. 

“ Deaf ! Thought I was deaf? Pray what made 
you think that?” 

“Well,” said Chris. “Mother and I both 
thought you must be, because she so often knocks 
at your study door, and you don’t hear her.” 

Mr. Bradfield’s countenance cleared, and a 
twinkle appeared in his eyes. 

“Oh! ah! No. Very likely not.” Then he 
chuckled to himself, and added good-humoredly: 
“Your mother’s a joke, isn’t she?” 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS. 


57 


Chris was taken aback, and for the first moment 
she could make no answer. So Mr. Bradfield went 
on : 

“ Of course I don’t mean anything at all dis- 
respectful to the old lady. She makes a splendid 
head of a household ; servants say she’s a regular 
tar — er — er — ^a regular darling. But, well, she’s 
a trifle chilling; now, isn’t she?” 

“ My mother is not very effusive in her manners 
toward people she doesn’t know very well,” an- 
swered Chris with some constraint. 

“That’s just what I meant,” said Mr. Brad- 
field, looking up at the ceiling. “ And not know- 
ing me very well, she’s not very effusive to 
me.” 

Chris, who had seated herself on the music-stool, 
drew herself up primly. She could not allow her 
mother to be laughed at. 

“ I think it’s better for people to improve upon 
acquaintance, instead of making themselves so 
very sweet and charming at first that they can’t 
even keep it up.” 

Mr. Bradfield raised his eyebrows. “Have I 
been so sweet and charming, then, that you’re 
afraid that I can’t keep it up?” 

“No, indeed, you haven’t,” replied Chris 
promptly, with an irrepressible little laugh. 

“That’s all right. What were you doing in 
here?” he went on, looking at the gloves she was 
drawing on her hands, and at the duster and dust- 
bellows she had picked up again. 

“ I was dusting the ornaments.” 


58 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“What on earth did you want to do that for? 
Isn’t there a houseful of servants to do all that 
sort of thing?” 

“ My mother says the care of old china is a lady’s 
work, not a servant’s. She would think it wicked 
to leave such a duty to the maids.” 

“ Well, I don’t like to see you do it. It looks as 
if you were expected to do parlormaid’s work, 
which you’re not.” 

Chris, with a little flush of curiosity and excite- 
ment, rose from her seat, and drummed softly with 
her gloved flnger-tips on the top of the piano. She 
saw the opportunity to satisfy lierself on a point 
which had been occupying her mind. 

“ What am I expected to do then, Mr. Bradfleld? 
That’s just what I want to know.” 

Mr. Bradfleld looked rather amused, and did not 
at once reply. “ That’s what you want to know, 
is it?” said he at last. 

“Yes. Why did you advertise for a mother 
and daughter, unless you had something for the 
daughter to do?” 

There was a short pause, during which Mr. 
Bradfleld looked at her and chuckled quietly as if 
she amused him. 

“Upon my soul I hardly know. I think I had 
some sort of a notion that a woman with a daugh- 
ter would settle down more contentedly, and — and 
wouldn’t be so likely to — to give way to bad 
habits.” Here Mr. Bradfleld pulled himself up 
suddenly, recollecting that what he had really 
feared was an undue predilection for his old port. 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS, 


59 


“You see,” he went on hastily, “I had no idea 
that I should have the luck to get such a — such 
a — well, such a magnificent person as your mother 
to condescend to keep house for me in my humble 
little home. When I advertised, I had no idea of 
getting my advertisement answered by a — a ” 

Chris nodded intelligently. 

“I see,” said she cheerfully. “What mamma 
calls ‘a gentlewoman.’” 

“That’s it exactly. And it means a woman 
who is not gentle to anybody out of her own ‘set,’ 
doesn’t it?” 

Poor Chris wanted to laugh, but was too loyal to 
her mother to indulge the inclination. But Mr. 
Bradfield caught the little convulsive sound which 
intimated that she was amused, and he beamed 
upon her more benignantly than he had done 
yet. 

“I see then,” she begun, in the preternaturally 
solemn tone of one who has been caught in un- 
seemly hilarity, “ that I am here on false pretences, 
as it were. If I had not been a — a ‘gentle- 
woman, ’ ” — again she suppressed a giggle — “ you 
would have had no scruple about my making my- 
self useful.” 

Mr. Bradfield, evidently delighted by the view 
the girl took of things, came a little nearer to the 
piano. 

“You are a sensible girl,” he said with admira- 
tion. “Now if your mother were like you — ” he 
went on regretfully; and stopped. 

“If she were, you wouldn’t have your house 


60 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


kept so well,” said Chris merrily. “ I’m no use at 
all in a house, everybody always says. They used 
to make me play dance music, because there was 
nothing else I could do.” 

“ Dance music!” echoed Mr. Bradfield hopefully. 
“ I thought you young ladies never condescended 
to anything beneath a sonata?” 

Chris laughed. 

“I don’t, if my mother can help it,” she con- 
fessed. “ She says a correct taste in music is one 
of the signs of a gentlewoman, and she makes me 
study Beethoven and Brahms, until I have culti- 
vated a splendid taste for — Sullivan and Lecocq.” 

Does she like the sonatas herself?” 

“ She says so; but then all ladies with grown-up 
daughters say that. And she takes me to very 
dull concerts of nothing but severely classical 
music. And she pretends she isn’t bored ; but oh ! 
the relief which appears in her poor dear face 
when they drop into a stray little bit of tune!” 

Mr. Bradfield put back his head and roared with 
laughter. 

“I suppose,” he said at last, wistfully, ‘‘she 
wouldn’t let you come down here sometimes, in 
the evening, and play something frivolous, some- 
thing lively?” 

Chris hesitated. 

“I don’t know,” she said. 

“Of course we would have her down here too,” 
he explained. “And when she felt that she 
couldn’t get on any longer without a dose of Bach, 
you might indulge her, you know.” 


MUSIC HATH CHARMS. 


61 


Chris, who looked pleased at the prospect, sud- 
denly thought of a difficulty. 

‘‘But, Mr. Bradfield,” she suggested diffidently, 
“ this music you have here, of course it’s very nice, 
very nice indeed, but it’s not quite the latest. 
‘The Mabel Waltz’ and ‘Les Cloches du Monastre’ 
are not new, you know.” 

“We’ll soon set that right,” said Mr. Bradfield, 
as he looked at the clock and then at his watch. 
“ I’ll wire up to some of the big music-shops, and 
by to-morrow or the day after we’ll have all the 
latest things.” 

He disappeared with his usual nod, leaving 
Chris in a state of high excitement. She rushed 
upstairs to see whether her mother, who had 
forbidden her to visit her during her morning’s 
work in the housekeeper’s room, had come up yet. 

As she passed the door of the study it opened 
suddenly, and Mr. Bradfield appeared. He was 
much struck by the change in her appearance 
which had taken place in the few minutes since he 
had left her in the drawing-room. The restraint 
of his presence once removed she had given herself 
up to the wildest excitement, and her face was 
aglow. She looked so pretty that Mr. Bradfield 
stared at her with fresh interest. She was trying 
to run away, when he stopped her by saying : 

“Where are you going in such a hurry?” 

“Upstairs, to tell my mother about the music,” 
she answered shyly. 

Still he detained her, finding her much more at- 
tractive than his accounts. 


62 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“Did you ever have a sweetheart?” he asked 
after a little pause. 

Chris burst out laughing at this ridiculously 
ingenuous question. Mr. Bradfield repeated it, 
and this time she answered with delightful frank- 
ness: “Why, I have had a dozen.” It was his 
turn to be taken aback. “ Oh,” he exclaimed, wdth 
new diffidence, “ we must try to find you one here 
then !” Chris shot at him one merry glance, and 
then looked demurely at the floor. “You needn’t 
trouble yourself to do that, Mr. Bradfield, thank 
you. I can find one for myself if I want one, I 
dare say.” 

And, refusing to be detained any longer, she 
went upstairs, meeting her mother in the corridor 
above. 


CHAPTER VII. 

A PORTKAIT. 

“ Mother, mother, who was the idiot that said 
riches don’t bring happiness?” 

It was two days after the interview Chris had 
had with Mr. Bradfield in the drawing-room, and 
the new music had come. Mr. Bradfield, who had 
on several occasions during the past two da.ys 
caught sight of Chris but failed to get a word with 
her, had sent up a message to the effect that if 
Mrs. and Miss Abercarne would go down to the 


A PORTRAIT. 


63 


drawing-room, they would find something there 
which would interest one of them. 

So they went down to the great room, which was 
cold, with a recently lighted fire in each of the two 
grates, and dimly lighted, for there was no gas, 
and the illumination consisted of a dozen wax can- 
dles. Chris, who had put on a dress square in the 
neck in honor of the occasion, in spite of her 
mother’s warnings, shivered. But the sight of the 
great pile of music on two tables in the middle of 
the room made her forget the cold. 

Mrs. Abercarne sighed at her daughter’s ex- 
clamation. She felt very much inclined to echo 
the sentiment. Certainly her own happiness had 
belonged to the time when she had been well off, 
before frocks had to be turned and last year’s bon- 
nets furbished up. 

Mr. Bradfield had not yet come in from the 
dining-room, so Chris could chatter on at her ease. 

“ To think of being able to get everything one 
wanted just by sending to town for it! No ques- 
tion whether it costs sixpence or ten pounds 1 To 
be able to look into the windows without consider- 
ing that four and eleven pence three farthings is 
five shillings ! Oh, mother,” and she pounced upon 
a waltz, and a song, and a gavotte which she felt 
sure she should like, “ I feel as if I were living in 
an enchanted palace, and as if Mr. Bradfield were 
the good fairy !” 

“ Mr. Bradfield is very much obliged to you, I’m 
sure,” said the owner of the house, who had come 
in very quietly, attracted by the sound of her 


64 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


bright voice from the adjoining room. “It’s a 
more flattering comparison than you made to me 
at first, if I remember rightly.” 

But Chris was too happy to be troubled by this 
reminiscence. 

“It’s nothing to what you may expect if you 
come upon me without warning when I don’t feel 
very good,” said she. 

“Let us hear some of the music, Chris,” said 
her mother, afraid that the girl’s sauciness might 
offend the great man. 

But Mr. Bradfield was inclined to take every- 
thing the young girl said in good part. He 
even offered to turn the leaves of her music, with 
apologies for his clumsiness, which was indeed ex- 
treme. Chris, who, although not a performer of 
special excellence, read music well and with spirit, 
was in an ecstasy of girlish enjoyment, and she 
communicated the contagion to her older compan- 
ions. Mr. Bradfield was good humor itself. Mrs. 
Abercarne was the perfection of graciousness. He 
hunted out some old photographic albums, the por- 
traits of which she inspected minutely through her 
double eyeglasses, with the most flattering com- 
ments imagination could suggest. 

“You needn’t be so polite unless you really like 
it,” he said dryly, when she had just found the 
word “ intellectual” to describe a very grim female 
face; “ they’re only relations.” 

Mrs. Abercarne looked up in astonishment. 

“ All these are your relations! You must have 
a great many then?” 


A PORTRAIT. 


65 


“Swarms of ’em.” 

Mrs. Abercarne looked through her eyeglasses, 
no longer at the photographs, but at him. 

“ I should have thought, among so many, you 
might have found some one to manage your estab- 
lishment without having to advertise,” she sug- 
gested. 

Mr. Bradfield laughed. 

“ So I could. I could have found a hundred — 
some to manage my establishment, some to manage 
me, some to do both. And then all those whom I 
had not selected would have come down upon me 
in a body, and my life wouldn’t have been worth 
a year’s purchase among them. It won’t be worth 
much when they find you are here, you and Miss 
Christina. I shouldn’t be surprised if they were 
to set fire to the house and burn us all up to- 
gether.” 

Mrs. Abercarne began to look frightened, while 
Chris was immensely amused. 

“ Even money, you see. Miss Christina,” he went 
on, turning to the girl, who indeed engrossed most 
of his attention, “doesn’t keep you free from all 
worries.” 

“It does from the worst of them, though/’ said 
Chris sagely. “It saves you from all the little 
ones, which are much worse to bear every day than 
one big one now and then. Who wouldn’t rather 
have one bad attack of typhoid fever and have 
done with it than have, say, toothache everyday? 
You can’t understand how much worse it is to 
deny yourself every day things which cost a penny 


66 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


than to resist once in a way the temptation to 
spend a sovereign.” 

Mr. Bradfield was looking at her intently. 

At any rate,” said he with some warmth in his 
tone, “ as long as you remain here, the sovereigns 
as well as the pennies will be forthcoming as often 
as the}^ are wanted.” 

Here Mrs. Abercarne thought fit to interpose 
majestically. 

“ My daughter was only using those particular 
terms as an illustration,” she said in a suave man- 
ner. “ As a matter of fact, neither the pennies nor 
the sovereigns are matters that concern her.” 

Both Mr. Bradfield and Chris accepted this re- 
buke in silence ; but they exchanged a look, and 
poor Chris could not help remembering Mr. Brad- 
field’s remark that her mother was a joke. 

“At the same time,” went on Mrs. Abercarne, 
conscious that she had. somewhat checked the even- 
ing’s pleasure, “I must confess that whatever 
cares one may have seem lighter when borne in a 
mansion like this, surrounded by treasures of art 
and evidences of high culture.” 

Mr. Bradfield tried to look as if he appreciated 
the compliment, and Chris, feeling that the atmo- 
sphere was growing frigid again, made a 
diversion. 

“Indeed, Mr. Bradfield,” said she, “we’re never 
tired of looking at your beautiful things. Only all 
the cabinets and cupboards are always locked up, 
and it is very tantalizing not to know what’s inside.” 

“ Well, here are my keys,” said he, as he took 


A PORTRAIT. 


67 


from his pocket a large bunch of various sizes; 
“ open anything you like. There is no Blue Beard’s 
chamber here.” 

Perhaps they all thought this remark rather 
unfortunate, with the knowledge they all had of 
the locked rooms in the east wing. At any rate 
there was an awkward pause as Chris took the 
keys. He hastened to add : 

‘‘There are no rooms in this house, except of 
course poor Dick’s, which you may not ransack as 
much as you like.” 

“Thank you,” said Chris, as she ran to a hand- 
some inlaid cabinet with a locked cupboard in the 
centre. “ I’m going to take you at your word, and 
begin here.” 

She opened the carved doors, and found a col- 
lection of rare coins, which excited in her only a 
languid interest. Then she examined the contents 
of a pair of engraved caskets which stood on a 
side-table. Lastly, the shelves of a locked cup- 
board under a rosewood bookcase engaged her 
attention. 

Here she found something more attractive to her 
frivolous mind. Hidden away at the back of the 
bottom shelf was an old cardboard box containing 
a miscellaneous collection of portraits, pencil 
sketches, faded daguerreotypes, and a few minia- 
tures on ivory. 

One of these last attracted her at once in a very 
strong degree. It was the portrait of a young 
man, fair, clean-shaven, and strikingly handsome, 
with features slightly aquiline, blue eyes, and an 


68 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


expression which seemed to Chris to denote sweet 
temper and refinement in equal degrees. She was 
a long way from her two companions when she 
discovered the portrait, for the bookcase under 
which the cupboard was occupied a remote corner 
of the back drawing-room, while her mother and 
Mr. Bradfield were sitting by the fire in the front 
room. 

She sat so long quietly looking at the miniature 
that Mr. Bradfield’s attention was attracted. 

“ Our flibbertigibbet has grown very quiet,” said 
he at last. “ I wonder what mischief she is up to !” 

As he spoke, he rose softly from his chair, walked 
on tip-toe to the other end of the room, and peeped 
round the partition, part of which still remained 
between the front and the back room. Chris saw 
him, and started. 

We’ve caught her in the very act, Mrs. Aber- 
carne !” he cried. “ Guilt on every feature !” 

Indeed Chris had blushed a little, and thrust the 
portrait quickly back on to the shelf. 

“ I was only looking at a picture,” she explained 
quickly. And the next moment, seized by an idea, 
she snatched up the miniature and held it toward 
Mr. Bradfield. 

looks like a portrait,” said she. Do you 
know who it is?” 

As she held up the picture she saw a change in 
Mr. Bradfield’s face. It was too dark in this back 
room to see whether ho lost color ; but an expres- 
sion of what was certainly annoyance, mingled 
with something that looked like terror, passed over 


A PORTRAIT. 


60 


his face. It was gone in a moment, and he an- 
sw^ered her calmly enough. 

No,” said he, “ I don’t know who it is. I dare 
say I bought it in a collection of miniatures.” 

Chris turned it over in her hand.” 

“Oh, here’s the name, I suppose,” she said. 
“Gilbert Wryde, 1846!” 

Again as she glanced up quickly and rather 
curiously she saw the same sort of look for a 
couple of seconds on Mr. Bradfield’s face. But he 
answered in a tone just as unmoved as before : 

“Perhaps it’s only the name of the artist who 
painted it. I should think the date was right by 
the costume. Are you fond of miniatures? I 
have a splendid collection in one of the rooms up 
stairs. I will show you them to*morrow, if you 
like.” 

“Thank you. I don’t know that I do care for 
them so very much. But I like that one. The 
face is an interesting one.” 

“ I think they used to flatter the sitter a little in 
the days when people had themselves painted like 
that,” said Mr. Bradfleld. “I dare say now an 
artist of those days would have done the fairy’s 
trick, and transformed the Beast into a prince. 
And now will you let us have that song from 
Utopia once more before Mrs. Abercarne carries 
you off?” 

Chris rose at once, returned him his keys, and 
went to the piano. She sang the song he had 
asked for, received Mr. Bradfleld ’s enthusiastic 
thanks, and noticed that he seemed in higher 


70 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


spirits than he had been all the evening. He gave 
Mrs, Abercarne her candle, bowed her out of the 
room, and contrived to detain Chris a moment 
longer. 

“We must absolutely find you that sweetheart,” 
said he, in a low voice, and in rather wistful tones. 
“You will be dull in this outlandish place without 
one.” 

“You must absolutely leave me to do as I like 
about that, Mr. Bradfield,” replied Chris saucily. 
“ And I am never dull anywhere.” 

“ I wish I could say the same of myself !” said 
he heartily. 

And then he let her go, wishing her good 
night with some constraint, which she, used to 
admiration from young and old, did not fail to 
notice. 

She ran upstairs, and joined her mother at the 
door of their room. Mrs. Abercarne looked at the 
girl as soon as they got inside the door. 

“ What was Mr. Bradfield saying to you, Chris?” 
she asked with apparent indifference, as she took 
from her head the scrap of old point lace which 
she thought proper to wear by way of a cap. 

“ Oh, he said he must get me a sweetheart, and 
I told him he might save himself the trouble,” said 
she lightly. “ Don’t you think it very silly of him 
to say those things to me, mother?” 

Mrs. Abercarne paused a moment, and then an- 
swered thoughtfully : “ I think he means to be kind. 
He always speaks as if he took an interest in you 
— a great interest.” 


A PORTRAIT. 


11 


Chris glanced quickly at her mother. 

An interest! Oh, yes,” said she. 

Then there was another short silence, during 
which Chris knelt in front of the fireplace and 
stared intently at the red coals. 

“You don’t seem very grateful, dear!” 

The girl started. 

“Grateful! I! What for?” she asked stupidly. 

“ Why, Chris, you are in the clouds ! What 
were you thinking about — Mr. Bradfield?” 

“ Mr. Bradfield !” echoed the young girl with a 
laugh of derision. “No, mother,! was thinking 
about that face in the miniature.” 

Her mother laughed rather contemptuously. 

“ I shouldn’t waste any thoughts upon a portrait 
painted forty years ago!” she said somewhat 
scornfully. “ Why, child, the idea of growing 
sentimental about a man who, if he is still alive, 
must be seventy if he is a day !” 

“ Sentimental !” echoed Chris. “ Did I speak 
sentimentally? I did not know it. But — I should 
like to know something about the man whose por- 
trait it was. It was an interesting face, mother. 
I will show it you to-morrow, and you shall judge 
for yourself whether I am not right.” 

Mrs. Abercarne, seeing that the girl was too 
much occupied in thinking of the picture to give 
her attention to anything else, gave up her attempt 
to sound her on another subject, and talked about 
the music until they both went to sleep. 

On the following day, when Chris was in the 
drawing-room with her duster, she remembered 


72 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


the fascinating miniature, and thought she would 
like to have another look at it by daylight. So she 
went into the back drawing-room, remembering 
that she had forgotten to lock the cupboard door 
wheri she handed back his keys to Mr. Bradfield. 

Some one had been there before her, however, for 
the door was now securely locked. Chris was 
vexed at this, and gave the door an impatient lit- 
tle shake. The cupboard was old, and the bolt 
gave way under this rough handling. She had 
not expected this, but, as it had happened, she felt 
justified in taking advantage of the occurrence. 
For Mr. Bradfield had given her permission to 
examine what she pleased. 

Opening the door, therefore, she took out the 
box, which had been replaced at the back of its 
shelf, and turned out the contents in search of the 
miniature. She took out every separate thing, she 
thoroughly examined not only that shelf but the 
others, and then she shut the cupboard, dis- 
appointed and puzzled. 

The miniature was no longer there. 


CHAPTER VIII. 

THE STRANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING. 

Chris thought this incident very strange. She 
pondered it in her mind, and mentioned it to her 
mother in a manner which showed that she con- 
sidered it a suspicious one. 


STRANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING. 73 

Mrs. Abercarne looked at the matter differently. 
There were a thousand reasons, any one of which 
might be the right one in this case, why a gentle- 
man should choose to transfer some object in his 
possession from one place of safe keeping to an- 
other. It might be the portrait of an old friend 

“But he said he didn’t know who it was,” ob- 
jected Chris. 

“Well, it may be a particularly good painting, 
so that he may wish to add it to the collection of 
miniatures upstairs which he spoke of,” said Mrs. 
Abercarne, who now showed herself read}^ at all 
times to take Mr. Bradfield’s part. “ Or perhaps,” 
she hazarded, with a rapid glance at the girl’s face, 
“ he did not quite like your taking such a strong 
interest in the portrait of another gentleman.” 

“ Indeed I don’t see how that could concern 
him,” returned Chris coldly. 

The young girl quite understood these allusions 
on her mother’s part to Mr. Bradfield’s evident ad- 
miration. But she would not allow the subject to 
be mentioned; and her mother, who, poor lady, 
was not unnaturally delighted at the prospect she 
thought she discerned of marrying her pretty 
daughter well, thought it wiser not to precipitate 
matters. 

For already the bird seemed to have taken 
fright, and grown shy, as if seeing or suspecting 
a snare. Mr. Bradficld was always trying to way- 
lay Chris for the sake of a few moments’ talk with 
her and always failing in the attempt. At last he 
complained to Mrs. Abercarne in terms which 


74 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


almost amounted to a declaration of the state of 
his feelings with regard to her. 

“She is young and wilful,” answered the 
mother, who thought that this shyness on the 
girl’s part was likely to give a wholesome stimulus 
to the gentleman’s attachment. “ I don’t think she 
takes any serious views of life at present. Better 
not to speak to her just yet on any matter more 
momentous than concerts and dances.” 

“ Dances !” echoed Mr. Bradfield dubiously. “ Is 
she dull down here then? I hope she is not too 
fond of balls and gayety?” 

“Not more fond than a girl ought to be,” an- 
swered Mrs. Abercarne promptly. She had no 
notion of tying her daughter to a man who would 
not let her enjoy herself as she liked. If Mr. 
Bradfield wanted a young wife with the tastes of 
an old one, he must give up all thought of marrying 
Chris. “She is a good waltzer, and loves a 
dance.” 

Mr. Bradfield looked rather morose, rather crest- 
fallen. 

“Well,” he said at last, “I’ll give a ball at 
Christmas. The worst of it is that a host of my 
confounded relations will insist upon coming, and 
— and if they have their suspicions roused, there’ll 
be the to pay !” 

“ Then if you are so much afraid of your rela- 
tions, Mr. Bradfield, I should study them by all 
means,” said Mrs. Abercarne loftily, as she left 
him upon the excuse that she had some work to do. 

He growled to himself that he would have noth- 


STBANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING. 


75 


ing more than he was obliged to do with either 
arrogant mother or flighty daughter ; but he failed 
lamentably to keep his resolution. The girl’s 
pretty face and lively manners had enslaved him ; 
and try as he would, this middle-aged gentleman 
could not conquer the foolish longing to become the 
husband of a woman twenty-five years younger 
than himself. 

Meanwhile Chris was unconsciously doing her 
utmost to keep alive the admiration of her elderly 
admirer, by being as happy as the day was long. 
And as happiness is becoming, the glimpses Mr. 
Bradfield caught of her bright face and lithe figure 
were more than tantalizing. Bradfield was not 
vain enough to think that he should get this beau- 
tiful young girl to fall in love with him, at any 
rate before marriage. He reckoned on the absence 
of rivalry, and on her great and increasing affec- 
tion for her new home. Already she knew every 
object in Mr. Bradfield’s collection by heart, and 
could have found her way blindfold into any corner 
of the grounds. 

There was one exception, and it galled her. To 
the west of the house the grounds were very open, 
for the flower-garden was on that side, and the 
trees had been cut down in order to get more sun 
on to the borders. On the south, toward the sea, 
a lawn sloped gently down from the house to the 
outer fence. On the north side was the carriage 
drive, and more flower-beds. But the groundsmen 
the east side she had been unable to explore, as 
they were cut off from the rest by a light orna- 


76 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


mental iron fence, and two gates, one on the north 
side and one on the south, which were kept 
locked. 

She had gone so far as to ask one of the under 
gardeners to let her go through ; but he had re- 
spectfully referred her to the head gardener, where- 
upon she had given up her design as hopeless, 
divining, as she did, that he would refer her to 
Mr. Bradfield, and that Mr. Bradfield would prob- 
ably make some excuse to .prevent her going 
through. For the girl knew very well, in spite of 
the frank manner in which he spoke of the east 
wing and its occupant, that there was some sort of 
mystery, some secret, big or little, connected with 
Mr. Richard ; and she believed that it was on ac- 
count of the madman’s presence in the east wing 
that the grounds on that side of the house were 
closed. She thought she would trust to her chances 
of getting inside those gates without asking any- 
body’s permission. They must be unlocked some- 
times, and as she was always about the grounds, 
she had only to wait for her opportunity. 

Of course she was right. The opportunity came 
one morning, when one of the gardeners had gone 
through the north gate with a wheelbarrow, leav- 
ing the key in the gate behind him. 

Chris, who was looking out of her bedroom win- 
dow, ran downstairs and out of the house, and was 
through the gate in a moment. 

, A winding gravel path led through a thick 
growth of trees to the kitchen garden, where she 
saw Johnson, the second gardener, was busy with 


STRANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING, 


77 


the celery bed. He saw her, but touched his hat 
and took no further notice beyond a faint grin. 
Probably the affairs of the household were suffi- 
ciently discussed in the servants’ hall for him to 
guess that the young lady’s transgression would be 
overlooked at headquarters. Chris sauntered on, 
peeping into the tomato-houses and trying to look 
through the steaming glass of the fern-houses, until 
she was well under the windows of the shut up 
rooms. And she now perceived that there were 
bars in front of all of them. 

The girl was a little impressed by this, and she 
kept well among the trees, with a feeling that some 
hideous maniac’s face might appear at one of the 
windows and make grimaces at her. It was easy 
for her to remain hidden herself from any eyes in 
the east wing but very sharp ones ; for under the 
trees was a growth of bushes and shrubs, through 
which she could peep herself at the barred win- 
dows. She had made her way, cautiously and 
under cover, from the north to the south; and 
turning, she could see the sea between the branches. 
But from the first floor the view of the sea was in 
great part spoiled by the thick growth of the upper 
branches of the big elms and fir trees, which 
allowed a good view between their bare trunks 
from the ground floor. 

Chris met nobody, and she saw nobody at the 
front windows ; rather disappointed, she was mak- 
ing her way back again, in order to get out through 
the gate by which she had entered, when, glanc- 
ing up at one of the east windows on the first 


78 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


floor, she saw that since she had last passed, a 
man had seated himself close to the panes. 

At the first moment, she of course thought this 
must be the maniac, and she quickly concealed 
herself behind one of the bushes by the side of the 
path, so that she could get a good view of him 
without his seeing her. But a very few seconds 
made her alter her first impression. Surely this 
was no madman — this handsome man with the 
pale, refined face and large melancholy eyes ! The 
face was young : at least she thought so at the first 
look. It was not until she had examined it for 
some seconds that she saw the deep lines and fur- 
rows about the mouth and eyes, and the silver 
patches in the hair, which was long, and brushed 
back from the face. 

Chris drew a quick breath. Something in the 
face made her think she had seen it before. The 
long and slightly aquiline nose, the straight mouth 
with its finely cut lips, the brushed-back hair : she 
seemed to know them all as part of a picture she 
had lately seen. Suddenly an exclamation broke 
from her lips. The miniature! Yes, the face at 
the window was the face in the little picture. 
This must be Gilbert Wryde. 

Chris was much puzzled. Was he the doctor 
who attended Mr. Richard? Or an old friend who^ 
had come to see him? This seemed the more prob- 
able of the two suppositions ; for if the portrait had 
been that of the madman’s doctor, Mr. Bradfleld 
would scarcely have said that he did not know 
him. 


STRANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING. 


79 


But then the date on the portrait, 1846? The 
painting was that of a young man in the very prime 
of life. In spite of the lines in his face and the 
silver in his hair, it was impossible that the face 
behind the barred window could be that of a man 
at least seventy years of age. 

Chris began to feel herself blushing, ashamed of 
the unseen watch she was keeping upon a strange 
man. The sun of a very bright December morn- 
ing was upon his face and upon a gold watch 
which he held in his hand and looked at intently. 
This fact, together with the intense seriousness of 
his face, caused Chris to revert to her idea that he 
must be a physician. She had not heard that Mr. 
Richard was ill, but that was nothing, for his 
name, as far as she knew, was very little mentioned 
in the household, and he might be ill without her 
ever hearing of it. 

She thought it probable that he was not only ill 
but that his malady had reached some grave crisis ; 
for the face at the window was quite grave enough 
to warrant the supposition that he was counting 
the minutes in a case of life and death. This idea 
seized upon her so strongly that she found herself 
watching for a change in his face, thinking he 
should be able to tell whether the expression altered 
to one of hope or to one of despair. 

Presently the expression did change. A look of 
eager expectancy appeared in it as the dark eyes 
looked up. The unknown man put his watch back 
in his pocket, and disappeared quickly from the 
window. 


80 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Chris, who was surprised to find that she had 
been standing still long enough to grow cold and 
stiff, moved quickly away from her hiding-place, 
with a flush of shame in her cheeks. A few steps 
further along the winding path under the trees, on 
which the decaying leaves lay thickly, brought her 
out into the kitchen garden. Johnson had finished 
with his celery, and was going into one of the 
houses to look at his cuttings. He glanced up at 
her, and she thought she would ask him a question. 

“Is Mr. Richard ill, Johnson, do you know?” 
she said. 

“ Not as I knows on, miss. At least not worse 
nor ordinary,” he said with a slight gesture of the 
head to denote where his weakness lay. 

“ Then why has he got a doctor with him?” 

“ He ain’t got no doctor with him, not as fur as 
I knows on, miss.” 

“ The gentleman with the long gray hair, isn’t 
he a doctor?” 

“Why no, miss,” answered Johnson with a 
grin ; “ the gentleman with the long hair is Mr. 
Richard himself.” 

Chris was so much astonished that for a moment 
she stared at the man and said nothing. Then she 
repeated slowly : 

“ Mr. Richard ! Why, he looks sane !” 

Johnson shook his head. 

“He do sometimes, miss,” he answered with an 
air of superior wisdom. “ Other times he carries 
on awful, smashes the windows and makes noises 
and cries to make your blood run cold. That’s 


STRANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING. 


81 


how it is, as I’ve heard, with folks that’s not got 
their proper wits. You’d think they was as wise 
as 3^ou and me ; and then something upsets ’em, 
and oflf they goes sudden-like, an’ raises old ’Arry 
before you can say Jack Robinson !” 

Chris was cut to the heart. Whether she would 
have felt quite so much compassion for Mr. Rich- 
ard if he had been stout, red-faced and stubbl}^- 
haired is' unfortunately open to question. But the 
idea of this man with the handsome features and 
the interesting expression passing his life shut up 
in these lonely rooms, with no society but that of 
Stelfox the Stolid, shocked her and made her 
miserable. She could not realize his condition; 
could not understand mental deficiency in the 
owner of a face which seemed to her as intellectual 
as it was good-looking. In a state of the strongest 
excitement she turned back again into the shrub- 
bery, to try to get one more look at the madman, 
and discover, if she could, in the placid grave 
features, some sign of the disorder behind them. 

A romantic notion had seized her that perhaps 
the most had not been done that could be done for 
him, and that she might be the means of inducing 
Mr. Bradfield to make one last and more success- 
ful effort to restore him to reason. 

And as this thought passed through her mind, 
the voice of Mr. Bradfield himself, calling to her, 
made her start and look round. 

He was coming out of the orchid-house, and he 
addressed her by name in a tone of surprise and 
some displeasure. 

6 


82 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


‘‘Miss Christina! Is that you? What are you 
doing in this part of the world?” 

“You know you said that I might examine 
every corner of the place, if I liked,” answered 
Chris blushing. “ But I have never been able to get 
into this particular corner until to-day.” 

“ Why didn’t you ask me to bring you here? I 
would have shown you anything you wanted to 
see, and should have had great pleasure in doing 
so, as you know,” replied he, still with some stiff- 
ness. “ As it is, I suppose you have not seen much 
to interest you? You have not been into any of 
the houses?” 

“ I haven’t been into any of the houses, but I 
have seen something to interest me,” answered 
Chris with her heart beating fast. 

She had resolved to be bold, and to carry out her 
scheme on behalf of Mr. Richard while excitement 
gave her courage. Mr. Bradfield raised his eye- 
brows a little, and Chris looked down, lest she 
should be frightened by his frowns. 

“ I have seen poor Mr. Richard — at the window,” 
she answered, drawing her breath quickly, and 
feeling rather than seeing that Mr. Bradfield was 
displeased. “And — and I want to know, Mr. 
Bradfield, if you will let my mother and me see 
him and speak to him?” 

“ Speak to him !” exclaimed Mr. Bradfield 
shortly, “ speak to a madman ! Well, you can cer- 
tainly if you like. But we shall have to take some 
precautions, as the very sight of a woman throws 
him into a frenzy. The sex is his pet aversion.” 


STEANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING. 


83 


Chris looked incredulous : she could not help it. 
It is always difficult to understand that one can 
have no attraction for a creature who attracts 
one’s self, and Mr. Richard certainly attracted her. 

“ I can’t think what has put the idea into your 
head of wishing to speak to him,” went on Mr. 
Bradfield in a tone of open annoyance. “ Surely 
you don’t think he is ill treated under my roof? 
Stelfox is a man in every way to be trusted, and 
you can ask him yourself about the poor fellow’s 
condition.” 

“ I didn’t mean that — I didn’t mean to imply that 
he was not kindly treated,” answered Chris hastily. 
“ But he looks so sane, so quiet; I was wondering 
whether something might not perhaps be done for 
him if you sent him to be seen by some celebrated 
mad doctor. I dare say you will think it very im- 
pertinent of me to make such a suggestion,” added 
the girl, laughing rather shyly, as if deprecating 
his anger at her boldness ; “ but you know mother 
always says I’m an impudent monkey, and I can’t 
help my nature, can I?” 

But Mr. Bradfield did not take her remarks as 
kindly as usual. He frowned, and seemed to be 
thinking out some idea which had entered his mind 
while she was speaking. There was a short pause 
before he said, not noticing her last words : 

“You think he is quiet, do you? You think I 
am exaggerating when I tell you he hates the sight 
of a woman? Well, you shall see. Wait here a 
moment while I find out where he is.” 

Mr. Bradfield left her by herself for a short time, 


84 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


while he followed the path among the trees toward 
the sea-front. Chris felt chilled and miserable. 
He seemed so much annoyed that she feared she 
had done more harm than good by her interference. 
All that she had gained was the knowledge that 
Mr. Richard’s case was considered hopeless, and 
this knowledge caused her infinite pain. She 
looked up again at the barred windows, and pict- 
ured to herself the blank, dismal life of the man 
who lived in those gloomy rooms, where the 
branches of the trees shut out the sun. What were 
the thoughts that occupied the darkened mind of 
the unhappy man who lived there? Whom was he 
waiting for, watch in hand? Was it for some one 
to cheer him in his solitude, some one who never 
came? 

Silly Chris had tears in her eyes at the thought. 
She brushed them away hastily as Mr. Bradfield 
came hurriedly back. He looked excited, and 
there was a confident look on his face which showed 
his belief that he could convert her to his own 
views of the madman. 

“Come,” said he. “Come this way, through 
the front gate.” 

Rather surprised, and wondering where he was 
going to lead her to, Chris followed Mr. Bradfield, 
not along the path among the trees, but by a more 
open one which passed nearer to the walls of the 
house, between two flower-borders. They turned 
the corner of the house, and as they did so Mr. 
Bradfield looked up at the first floor windows on 
the south side. 


STRANGE FACE IN THE EAST WING, 


85 


Mr. Richard was standing at one of them, with 
his face close to the glass, looking out. 

“Mind,” said Mr. Bradfield, as he put one hand 
as if for protection on her shoulder, “ when he sees 
you, he will fall into a paroxysm of fury. But 
don’t be frightened. I’ll take care you come to no 
harm.” 

The words were scarcely out of his mouth when 
Mr. Richard glanced down and saw the young lady 
with Mr. Bradfield. Just as the latter had pre- 
dicted, Mr. Richard’s face changed in a moment 
from its quiet melancholy to an expression like 
that of an enraged wild animal. Before she had 
time either to run forward or backward, she 
heard the crash of glass above her, and a heavy 
glass goblet was flung down to the ground be- 
side her, narrowly missing her head. Then she 
heard a wild, unearthly cry, followed by a tor- 
rent of discordant utterances impossible to under- 
stand except as the mad gibberings of a hopeless 
lunatic. 

With a little scream she escaped from Mr. Brad- 
field, who had thrown his arm round her, and ran 
back toward the gate by which she had entered the 
enclosure. 


86 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


CHAPTER IX. 

MR. BRADFIELD’S “ SMART” RELATIONS. 

To have a personal attack made upon her by a 
lunatic is enough to alarm the most intrepid girl. 
And Chris, although not a coward, not even given 
to hysterical attacks over black-beetles, was a good 
deal frightened by her first experience of Mr. 
Richard’s violence. 

By the time she was safely out of the enclosure, 
however, she had recovered from her first alarm ; 
and dropping from a run into a walk, she paused 
before carrying out her first idea of running in- 
doors to tell her mother what had happened. 

Why should she say anything about it to Mrs. 
Abercarne? Her mother had hardly yet got over 
her repugnance to staying under the same roof 
with a lunatic. If her terrors were to be revived 
by hearing of the adventure that had befallen her 
daughter, she would make fresh difficulties about 
staying, and perhaps exhaust Mr. Bradfield’s pa- 
tience. And Chris, though she could not be blind 
to the difficulties which Mr. Bradfield’s admiration 
began to put in the way of their remaining in his 
house, did not wish to hasten the moment when 
they must leave it. So she turned away from the 
house, and sauntered between the bare borders and 
empty flower-beds, to calm herself a little before 
returning to her mother’s presence. 

Well, what did I tell you?” said Mr. Bradfleld 


MR. BRADFIELD'S SMART RELATIONS. 87 

in an exultant tone. “ Are 3^011 still as anxious as 
ever for an interview with our young friend?” 

Chris, annoyed with herself, vented her anno}^- 
ance on him. So she turned to say snappishly": 

“Yes, quite as anxious. And more anxious 
still that he should be seen by a doctor.” 

Mr. Bradfield’s face changed. The sullen frown 
which, whenever it appeared, made his dark face 
so very unprepossessing, came over it as he said 
shortly : 

“You presume too much.” 

And he turned on his heel abruptly, and went 
indoors. 

Chris felt quite glad she had offended him. 
From one point of view, as the master of the 
house where she and her mother lived so comfort- 
ably", she liked him very much. From any other 
she began to feel that she did not like him at all. 
She felt again the aversion with which he had in- 
spired her on the day of her arrival, an aversion 
which his kindness had been gradually dispelling. 
But it came back with full force to-day, although 
she could not quite account for it. Perhaps it was 
that he showed too decided an acquiescence in the 
fact that his ward’s mental malady was incurable. 
Or it may have been vexation at his exposing her 
to the danger of the madman’s anger, and for the 
daring familiarity with which he had put his arm 
round her shoulder in an alleged attempt to pro- 
tect her. Or possibly her renewed dislike was 
only the result of that instinct by which women 
leap to conclusions without reasoning out the facts. 


88 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


It is at any rate certain that the girl felt at that 
moment considerably more fear of Mr. Bradfield 
than she did of the madman in the east wing. To 
be sure the latter was shut up, and the former was 
not! 

She did not go indoors until she had quite re- 
covered from the effects of the scene she had gone 
through; so that Mrs. Abercarne noted nothing 
unusual in her countenance or manner. 

It was after luncheon on the same day that 
Chris, sitting with her embroidery in the corridor, 
which was warmed with hot water pipes, and was 
her favorite retreat, was surprised to be addressed 
by Stelfox, who was carrying a couple of large 
books from one of the upstairs book-cases in the 
direction of the east wing. 

“You were not much frightened I hope this 
morning, miss, by Mr. Richard’s antics?” he asked 
in his quiet, stolid manner. Chris had a liking 
for this man as unreasonable as her dislike of his 
master. She had seldom spoken to him ; when he 
met her he had usually stood out of her way like 
an automaton, so that it was not upon discerning 
acquaintance that her predilection was founded. 
Still, it was a fact, and she smiled as she assured 
him that if she was frightened she soon got over it. 

“But where were you?” she went on in some 
surprise. “ Were you upstairs with Mr. Richard? 
No,” she continued, answering herself, as she re- 
membered to have seen Stelfox coming in by the 
front gates as she ran out of the enclosure. “ You 
had gone out into the town. How did you know 


MR, BRADFIELD'S SMART'' RELATIONS. 89 


then that I was frightened? Did Mr. Bradfield 
tell you?” 

Stelfox allowed his straight mouth to widen a 
little in what passed with him for a smile. 

“No, miss. Master never talks about Mr. 
Richard to any one. I heard it from the young gen- 
tleman himself when I took him in his luncheon.” 

Chris looked at him in astonishment. 

“ He told you ! He’s sane enough to know what 
he does then, and to talk about it afterwards? 
Do you believe that he is really incurable?” 

“Well, he’s pretty bad sometimes,” answered 
he, not giving a direct answer. “Perhaps you 
haven’t heard the way he cries out and the odd 
noises he makes, miss?” 

Chris gave a little shudder. 

“Yes, and it’s very dreadful to hear him. 
But ” 

She paused, and looked out at the sky which, 
now darkening a little toward evening, could be 
seen between the bare branches of the trees. Stel- 
fox was silent too, but it suddenly flashed through 
the mind of Chris that his was a discreet silence 
which had meaning in it. Before either spoke 
again, Stelfox lifted the lid of the box-ottoman 
near which he was standing, and rapidly but very 
quietly slipped inside the two books he had been 
carrying, and was immediately in the same atti- 
tude of respectful attention as before. Then for 
the first time she heard the creaking of a stair ; 
and turning her head, she saw Mr. Bradfield ap- 
proaching. 


90 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


To her great delight, for she had begun on the 
instant to dread a tete-a-tete with him, Mr. Brad- 
field scowled as he caught sight of her, and disap- 
peared into a sort of workshop he had on the first 
fioor, where he often spent the afternoon busy with 
a turning lathe. 

As soon as his master was out of sight, Stelfox 
took the two books out of the ottoman. Chris 
watched him in evident surprise. Then a thought 
struck her. 

“You were going to take those books to Mr. 
Richard?” she asked in a low voice. 

“Yes, miss.” 

“ And you were afraid he wouldn’t like you to?” 

“Well, miss,” said Stelfox, again with the con- 
tortion he meant for a smile, “ Mr. Bradfield don’t 
understand his ways as well as I do, and he thinks 
books wouldn’t be safe with him. But I know 
when to trust him with ’em, and he’s as quiet as 
a lamb this afternoon.” 

He was going on toward Mr. Richard’s room, 
when the young lady detained him, saying in a 
low voice : 

“Did he say, Stelfox, that he really meant to 
hurt me this morning?” 

Stelfox looked down at the carpet and for a mo- 
ment made no answer. Then he looked up and 
caught a look of suspense and impatience on 
her face. Looking down again at once, he said 
drily : 

“No, miss, I don’t recollect as he told me 
that.” 


MR. BRADFIELD^S SMART RELATIONS. 91 

Then he withdrew, leaving the young lady in a 
state of curiosity and strange excitement. 

Why should she care whether this poor lunatic 
wanted to hurt her or not? Surely the only thing 
that concerned her was that it should be out of his 
power to do so ! This was what Chris told her- 
self. But her girlish sense of romance was tickled 
by the whole story ; by the knowledge of the soli- 
tary and sad life this man was leading, close to 
his fellow creatures and yet shut out from them ; 
by a remembrance of the incident of the minia- 
ture, which would have passed for his portrait 
and yet which surely could not be his ; above all 
by the man himself, with his handsome face and 
weary eyes. 

For the next few days neither Chris nor her 
mother saw much of Mr. Bradfield. But he soon 
forgot or forgave her indiscreet interference on Mr. 
Richard’s behalf; for when he did see her he ban- 
tered her good-humoredly about the approaching 
ball, for which the invitations were being sent 
out. With this work, however, the ladies had 
little to do, except to help Mr. Bradfield’s secre- 
tary, a pale, fair, weak-eyed young man named 
Manners, in directing the envelopes. 

While this work of sending out the invitations 
was still in progress, Mrs. Abercarne received a 
note from Mr. Bradfield, requesting that she and 
her daughter would do him the pleasure of break- 
fasting, lunching and dining with him every 
day, and that they would begin that very even- 
ing. No sooner had they taken their seats at the 


92 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


table for the first time than Mr. Bradfield took an 
opened letter from his pocket, and gave it to the 
elder lady to read. 

“I have asked you to keep me company,” said 
he grimly, ‘‘to save me from that.^^ 

Mrs. Abercarne read the letter, which was in a 
large and modern lady’s hand. The paper was 
perfumed, and in color a very pale rose-pink — the 
latest Bayswater fashion in note paper. 

“ Cambridge Terrace, 
“Kensington, W. 
“My dear Cousin John: — 

“Need I say how utterly delighted we were 
with your most kind invitation ! Lilith and Rose 
are perfectly charmed, and so is Donald, whom you 
will not recognize ! He has grown into a splendid 
fellow ! What is this I hear : that you have been 
so dull that you have had to get a housekeeper ! 
Surely you know that you had only to mention it, 
and we would have done long ago what we pro- 
pose to do now, namely — migrate from town to 
the wilds of Wyngham to be near you! Yes, 
this is absolutely and truly what we are going to 
do! Retrenchment is the order of the day, now 
that we have a family growing up around us, 
and I think we cannot do better than settle our- 
selves where we shall get the benefit of the shadoiv 
of your wing ! I suppose there is some society in 
or about the place, and the fact of our being re- 
lated to you, besides the value of our own name, 
would of course give us the entree ! Would it be 
asking too much of you to look out for a modest 
house such as you would care for your relations to 
live in? — not too far away from you, I need not 
say! 


MR. BRADFIELD'S ‘‘SMART'' RELATIONS. 93 


“William wishes to be remembered to you most 
kindly. As for Rose and Lilith and the boys, 
they send so many that I cannot remember them 
all. 

“ Believe me, dear cousin John, you shall not 
long be left to the hired society of strangers, when 
your own family are only too anxious to do all 
they can to cheer you and to serve you in any way 
in their power. 

“Ever your sincerely affectionate cousin, 

“Maude Graham-Shute.” 

Mrs. Abercarne read the letter slowly through 
with the help of her eye-glasses, and then gave it 
back in a dignified manner. 

“A very affectionate letter,” she remarked, 
having read between the lines of the effusive epis- 
tle, and conceived for its writer an antagonism 
quite as violent as the writer evidently felt toward 
her. 

“Very affectionate,” he answered drily. “It 
will cost me say two hundred pounds. And cheap 
at the price, perhaps you’ll say!” 

Mrs. Abercarne coughed; comment was dan- 
gerous, and indeed unnecessary. Chris, who, 
without having seen the letter, made a judicious 
guess at the tenor of it, glanced from the one to 
the other. 

“You will think I have brought it on myself,” 
he went on, as he glanced once more over the let- 
ter before putting it in his pocket. “ However, 
the woman is so amusing with her airs and her 
pretensions that I am doing the neighborhood a 
good turn by providing it with a laughing-stock. 


94 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


A good-natured soul too ! I was in love with her 
once. There was less of her then !” 

Every word he uttered concerning the effusive 
cousin increased the aversion with which Mrs. 
Abercarne already regarded her. 

“I’ve asked them to come for the week,” he 
went on. “From Monday to Monday. You will 
give them what rooms you please, Mrs. Abercarne. 
There’ll be five of ’em — old couple, two grown-up 
daughters and a grown-up son. And you and 
Miss Christina will do your best to amuse them, 
I’m sure.” 

Mrs. Abercarne had grave doubts whether the 
visitors would allow themselves to be amused, but 
she did not say so. Mr. Bradfield did not like 
difficulties to be mentioned in the way of his 
whims, and it was one of his whims to fill his 
house at Christmas time, and another to play the 
patron to his poorer relations. She began to fear 
that the pleasant and independent time she and 
her daughter had enjoyed at Wyngham Lodge 
was over. 

For Mrs. Graham-Shute — she knew by a fine 
woman’s instinct — would “interfere.” 


MRS. GRAHAM-SHUTE MANCEUVRES. 


95 


CHAPTER X, 

MRS. GRAHAM-SHUTE MANCEUVRES. 

It was ten days later that Mrs. Graham-Shute 
arrived, according to her promise, at Wyngham 
House. 

Chris, much against her will, was stationed, by 
Mr. Bradfield’s special request, to receive the vis- 
itors. Mrs. Abercarne tried to persuade him that 
he himself ought to meet such distinguished vis- 
itors, but he laughed and said “ he couldn’t stand 
the old woman’s gush,” if a reception by Miss 
Christina wasn’t good enough for them, they 
might do without one altogether and be hanged to 
them. 

So Christina amused herself at the piano until 
Mrs. Graham-Shute was announced. The girl 
came forward modestly to receive the newcomers, 
who were talking loudly as they entered. At the 
first moment she thought it was an affectation to 
put her out of countenance, but she soon found 
out that the Graham-Shutes never did anything 
without making four times as much noise over it 
as anybody else would have done. 

Thus, Mrs. Graham-Shute came in with rustling 
skirts and jingling bonnet ornaments, while Don- 
ald laughed in a deep bass voice and entered with 
a tread as heavy as a dragoon’s. 

“My dear John, where are you? It was quite 
too sweet of you to ” 


96 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Suddenly becoming aware that dear John” was 
nowhere to be seen, and that there was only a 
slender and remarkably pretty girl bowing and 
smiling to her rather timidly, Mrs. Graham-Shute 
stopped short, drew in her extended hand, and 
stared at Chris with a face which had in an in- 
stant lost its air of expansive good humor. 

Chris, who had been reassured by the good- 
natured expression which she had at first seen on 
the visitor’s face, felt a chill come over her. She 
was not afraid of this self-important lady, but she 
perceived at once that there would be unpleas- 
antness” between her and '‘mamma.” With the 
quickness of budding womanhood, she had taken 
in at a glance every detail of the newcomer’s ap- 
pearance, and had had time for a peep at the young 
people behind. 

And what she had seen was a woman of medium 
height, enormously stout, with a large, many- 
chinned face, in which was a pair of eyes which 
ran over her interlocutor for a few moments with 
frank curiosity, and then grew dull while her 
tongue still ran on, and her mind occujned itself 
with some subject foreign to her words. 

So that while her words to Chris were : “ Dear 
me! So very sorry that Mr. Bradfield was too 
busy to receive us himself ! The poor dear man 
really does work too hard, with his collections, 
and his philanthropical projects!” her thoughts 
were : “ I wonder who on earth you are, and what 
you’re doing here ! And I hope, whoever you are, 
that we shall be able to turn you out !” 


3IRS. GRAHAM-SHUTE 3IAN(EUVRES. 


97 


Unfortunately, her thoughts spoke through her 
looks more eloquently than her words. Between 
her suspicions of the real state of the case and the 
possibility that this young lady might be a rela- 
tion of Mr. Bradfield’s, the poor lady felt uncer- 
tain how to treat her, and alternated between the 
most distant coldness and bursts of confidential 
effusiveness. When, however, Chris said : 
“Would you like to go up to your rooms? My 
mother thought you would like what we call the 
light-house room at the end,” Mrs. Graham-Shute 
stared at her with unmistakable hostility. 

“ Your mother is staying here with you then?” 
she said shortly. 

“My mother is the housekeeper,” answered 
Chris with a blush. 

Poor Mrs. Graham-Shute’s extensive person 
seemed to expand still further under the influence 
of her just indignation. To be received by the 
minx of a housekeeper’s daughter! A girl too 
whose very existence, to judge by her face and 
figure, was a danger and an insult to all Mr. 
Bradfield’s relations who had any expectations 
from him. What was dear John thinking about? 
She called her children much as a hen gathers her 
chicks under her wings at approaching danger, 
and they bustled and bounced out of the room. 

Chris was mortified, but she had expected some- 
thing of the sort, so she conquered the feeling 
easily. She would not go up to her mother, who 
was dressing for dinner, to delay her and worry 
her by a description of the new arrival^. Mrs. 
7 


98 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Abercarne could take her own part, whatever hap- 
pened, and there was no need to let her anticipate 
evil more than she had alread}^ done. 

In the mean time Mrs. Graham-Shute had not 
dared to make any comment on the situation until 
she was well past the study door. But upstairs, 
meeting her husband, who had gone straight to 
the stables for a cigar after his journey, she poured 
out her wrath in ceaseless torrent. 

Mr. Graham-Shute was a small and inoffensive 
man ; and he looked smaller and more inoffensive 
still when in the company of his wife. He was 
the grandson of a man who had been a great poet, 
and there’s no need to say more about him than 
that he was a striking example that genius is not 
hereditary. Being used to his wife’s harangues, 
he listened indifferently to this one ; and the only 
point in it which excited him to any attention was 
her account of the good looks of the interloper. 

‘‘Pretty girl, is she?” said he, with interest, 
when his better half took breath for a moment. 
“ I must make ha^te and dress and run down and 
have a look at her.” 

The poor lady was hardly more fortunate with 
her children. Lilith was rather pretty. Rose was 
rather plain; the former had dark eyes and a loud 
voice, and the latter had light eyes and no voice 
at all. They both thought that mamma was mak- 
ing a great fuss about a small matter, and Lilith 
told her so. 

Unable to get any sympathy from this quarter, 
Mrs. Graham-Shute tried her son. Donald, who 


MRS. GRAHAM-SHUTE MANCEUVRES, 


99 


was the apple of his mother’s eye, had been 
coarsely and aptly described by Mr. Bradfield be- 
fore his arrival as a rough young cub. He was a 
great, loud-voiced, awkward hobbledehoy, who had 
remained at this stage much longer than he would 
otherwise have done, through the injudicious man- 
agement of his mother. He couldn’t be made to 
see things from his mother’s point of view at all. 
Chris was an “awfully pretty girl,” and looked 
like an “awfully jolly one.” In consequence of 
her presence, he looked forward to having a very 
much pleasanter time at Wyngham House than 
he had ever had there before. 

“I shouldn’t worry myself about it, mother. 
In fact, I don’t know what you are worrying 
about,” he said, when she paused for breath. 
“ The girl’s a lady and ” 

“Why, you idiot, don’t you see that’s the dan- 
ger?” gasped his mother. “She’s a lady, and 
she’s young and good looking. And if she gets 
him to marry her, there’ll be an end of any hope 
of his doing anything for you or for any of us !” 

“Gets him to marry her!” roared Donald in- 
dignantly. “ Why, the old fool might think him- 
self precious lucky if he were to get her to marry 
him ! Why, she’s one of the most charming ” 

“Sh-sh!” said his mother, pinching his arm in 
her terror lest he should be overheard. “For 
goodness sake, hold your tongue. I’ve no doubt 
these people have their spies about, and if we’re 
not very civil to them they’ll persuade cousin John 
to be rude to us, or something dreadful !” 


100 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“You needn’t fear that I shall be anything but 
civil to that girl,” said Donald, as if conscious 
that his civility was rather a precious thing. 

And Mrs. Graham-Shute left her son with a 
sigh of self-pity at obtaining so little sympathy 
from her own “people.” 

She was an inventive woman, however, where 
her own little schemes were concerned, and an 
idea had come into her head. If it should prove, 
as she feared, that there was any danger of “ dear 
John’s” being enslaved by the housekeeper’s pretty 
daughter, why should she not put “ a drag” across 
the scent in the shape of her son? He was hand- 
some and fascinating beyond all men, and was 
twenty-five years younger than John Bradfield. 
He was already attracted by the girl, who could 
not fail to be fiattered by his admiration, whatever 
her designs might be upon the master of the house. 
If Donald would have the sense to make love to 
her without exciting the jealous suspicions of his 
cousin, he might draw off the girl’s attention, and 
give his mother time to “ look round” in the in- 
terests of herself and her family. 

In the mean time she made up her mind to “ be 
civil.” 

This proved a more difficult task than she had 
expected. At dinner she found Mrs. Abercarne 
installed in the place of the mistress of the house; 
she saw “ dear John,” who had welcomed her with- 
out effusiveness, casting sheep’s eyes in the direc- 
tion of Miss Abercarne. As she expressed it 
afterwards to her husband, who was delighted 


MRS. GRAHAM-SHUTE MANCEUVRES. 101 


with Chris, “You couldn’t move for Abercarnes! 
It was ‘ Mrs. Abercarne will do this,’ and ‘ Miss 
Abercarne can tell you that ’ from morning till 
night.” 

On the whole, dinner was a calamitous func- 
tion. Mr. Graham-Shute, who was neither a 
busy-body nor a schemer, but simply an easy- 
going gentleman without any great measure of 
tact, made, in spite of frowns of warning from 
his wife, more than one awkward remark. In the 
first place, he asked John Bradfield across the 
table whether he still kept his private lunatic on 
the establishment. 

“ Because if you do, you know, my dear fellow,” 
he went on, “that I shan’t be able to sleep a 
wink.” 

Mr. Bradfield answered very shortly: 

“ I don’t see what that can have to do with your 
sleeping.” 

“Don’t you? Why, John, your memory’s go- 
ing ! Have you forgotten the row he kicked up 
last time we were here, and how we all thought he 
would bring his door down? And the man who 
looks after him — or at least, who did then — a man 
named Stelfox, said he always went on like that 
when there were visitors in the house. I declare 
I shouldn’t have dared to come to-day if I’d 
thought you’d got him still !” 

“Why didn’t you ask me then?” said John 
Bradfield drily. “ I didn’t want to have you here 
against your will.” 

“Really, William,” broke in Mrs. Graham- 


102 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Shute, in an agony, '' I don’t know how you can 
be so absurd. How can it matter to you who is 
in one part of a large house like this, when you 
are far away in the other?” 

“Oh, of course it’s all right as long as he’s 
safely locked up,” said her husband, as he helped 
himself to an olive, with more attention to that 
than to the discussion in hand. “ But at my time 
of life a man prefers to die a natural death, and 
not to run the chance of being tomahawked in his 
bed.” 

Luckily the young people took this as a joke, 
and laughed; so that difficulty was got over. But 
when they had got as far as the sweets, the doomed 
man began again. 

“ By the bye, Bradfield,” he asked casually, as 
he tried to make up his mind between orange jelly 
and ice pudding, “what’s become of those two 
fellows who were out in the bush with you?” 

“Don’t know what two fellows you mean,” 
answered Mr. Bradfield, in a tone which would 
have warned off any person less obtuse. “ I met 
a good many fellows when I was out there.” 

By this time Mr. Graham- Shute had caught his 
wife’s eye, seen her frowns, watched her agonized 
attempts to kick his foot under the table. But he 
was as quietly obstinate in his way as she was 
loudly determined in hers, so he glared at her 
across the flowers and persisted in his ill-advised 
remarks. 

“Oh, come, you must know. Two fellows who 
went out with you, or whom you met soon after 


3IES. GRAHA3I-SHUTE 3IANCEUVRES, 103 


you got out there, and chummed up with. Marra- 
ble! Yes, Alfred Marrable was the name of the 
one, and ” 

Here he paused, trying to recollect the second 
name. I can’t remember the name of the other. 
What’s become of them? What’s become of 
Marrable?” 

Mrs. Graham -Shute could hardly have been 
trusted alone with her husband with a weapon in 
her hand at that moment. For she saw that the 
rich cousin from whom so much was expected was 
looking as much displeased as only a sallow-faced 
and black-haired man can look. If William was 
going on like this, they might just as well settle 
at John o’ Groat’s as at Wyngham! John Brad- 
field no longer pretended, however, to have for- 
gotten the existence of his old chums. 

‘‘Dead, I believe, both of them,” he answered 
curtly. “Did no good, either of them.” 

“ And what was the name of the other one?” 

“ Don’t remember.” 

William looked at him incredulously, though 
he could not go so far as to contradict him. His 
wife rushed in to the rescue. 

“ And what are we going to do to pass the time 
away between this and Friday?” she asked with a 
great assumption of buoyancy and good spirits. 
“We ought to try to ‘get up’ something, ought 
we not?” 

This question almost restored John Bradfield’s 
good humor. It was so characteristic of his cousin 
Maude. She was always “ getting up” something, 


104 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


always at short notice, and always badly. It was her 
custom to forget some one or other of the necessary 
preparations, and to leave the work to be done in 
the hands of others. But she liked the excitement, 
the glory of being the prime mover of anything, 
however small, the feeling that she was making 
herself talked about ; above all she liked the fuss.” 
Lilith and Rose looked at each other. Their eyes 
said : ‘‘ So like mamma !” 

^^All right, Maude,” said her cousin with re- 
stored good humor. “What shall it be? A sack 
race? Or distribution of buns to the oldest inhabit- 
ants? It’s all the same to you, I suppose?” 

It was her turn to look offended. She raised 
her head so far that her cousin could scarcely see 
more than the chins as she answered in stately 
tones : 

“Oh, of course, if I’m only to be laughed at, I 
withdraw the suggestion. But I thought, as we 
are in a beautiful house like this, where there is 
plenty of room and plenty of people to do every- 
thing, it seems a pity not to take advantage of it, 
and ” 

“And get a line in the local paper,” added her 
husband. 

There was a laugh at this : subdued on the part 
of her daughters, boisterously loud from Donald, 
who had been enjoying his cousin’s champagne 
immensely and bestowing more and more of his 
attention on the unresponsive Chris. 

They all knew that her project, if she could yet 
be said to have anything so definite, was not 


AMATEUR CHARITY. 


105 


nipped in the bud, but would spring up to its full 
growth at a not remote period. For the moment 
however, Mrs. Graham-Shute said no more about 
it, but rather disdainfully gave to Mrs. Abercarne 
the signal for the ladies to retire, instead of wait- 
ing for that lady to give it to her. 


CHAPTER XI. 

AMATEUR CHARITY. 

As soon as the ladies were in the drawing-room, 
Mrs. Graham-Shute returned to her point. As 
her daughters, used to mamma’s ways of “getting 
up” entertainments, were unsympathetic, and as 
Mrs. Abercarne was on her dignity, she was forced 
to pour out her proposals into the ear of Chris. 

Anxious to secure at least this one ally, she be- 
came very gracious to the girl. 

“ I’m sure you would be glad of some gayety to 
vary the monotony of your life here,” she said with 
condescension. “Xow what do you say to tab- 
leaux vivants? I’m sure we might get some up 
by Thursday. This is only Monday, so we have 
three clear days.” 

“ There would be a great deal to do in such a 
short time,” said Chris. “And where would you 
have them?” 

“ Oh, in this room, of course. It is beautifully 
adapted for the purpose. There’s the opening for 


106 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


the curtains between the two rooms, and a door to 
each, one for the audience, the other for the per- 
formers.” 

She was so enthusiastic that Chris felt quite 
sorry that she must destroy this charming arrange- 
ment by pointing out that the room was wanted 
for the ball on Friday night, and that there would 
not be time to put up a stage on Thursday and to 
take it down and re-arrange the room for the night 
after. 

Well, there must be some other room in a big 
place like this,” said Mrs. Graham-Shute, still 
buoyantly. “ Come, you set your wits to work to 
help me, like a dear girl, and I’m sure we shall 
manage something between us.” 

Chris began to see that she had better indulge 
her, as she would want something to keep her oc- 
cupied during the next few days. 

“ There’s a great place that was built for a barn 
that was used for a school treat in the summer, I 
believe. It’s down by the new stables, a quarter 
of a mile away. I don’t know whether that would 
do. There are some tables and trestles piled up in 
one corner; perhaps they could be made into a 
stage.” 

“The very thing,” cried Mrs. Graham-Shute 
enthusiastically. “ I knew we should manage it 
somehow !” 

But Chris saw difficulties where her companion 
saw none. 

“ But you will want a lot of people, performers 
and spectators too!” she objected. “And then. 


AMATEUR CHARITY. 


107 


have you considered that there will be dresses to 
be made, and scenes to be rehearsed? There’s a 
lot of work to be done to get tableaux up properly !” 

But to get a thing up properly Avas what Mrs. 
Graham-Shute never troubled to do. To get it up 
somehow was always the extreme limit of her am- 
bition. She was already perfectly satisfied, and 
she proceeded at once to settle other details as 
summarily as the first. 

“We will do fairy tales, I think,” she said. 
“ The dresses will be cheap and easily made. We 
can have ‘The Sleeping Beauty,’ with Lilith as 
Beauty, and ‘ Robinson Crusoe,’ and ‘ Red Riding 
Hood’ and — and any of those things, don’t you 
know? With all my cousin’s curiosities and 
things we can make a loA^ely palace for the Sleep- 
ing Beauty.” 

Mrs. Abercarne had raised her double eye-glass, 
and was looking horror-struck at this suggested 
desecration. Chris, with a frightened glance at 
her mother, hastened to say : 

“ But then the performers ! Who would you 
have for the tableaux?” 

“ Oh well, there must be some family in the 
neighborhood who are used to such things. There 
always is, you know. I must ask my cousin John 
about that. I suppose you wouldn’t know of any- 
body?” 

“Well, there are the Brownes. Mr. Browne is 
a brewer, the head of the firm of Browne and 
Browne. It’s a large family, and they get up 
things, I believe.” 


108 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


“Then they will do beautifully,” said Mrs. Gra-^ 
ham-Shute complacently. “We will have them 
just to fill up. They can play the pages, and court 
ladies, and one of them can be the wolf in ‘ Red 
Riding Hood,’ and another can black himself for 
Man Friday. Of course, Lilith and Rose and 
Donald will take the principal parts; for they 
want a little acting, you know. People think it’s 
only just to stand still, but really you have to be 
quite clever to do it really well. And now there’s 
nothing left to decide but what it’s to be for. Of 
course it must be in aid of something. I must go 
and see the vicar’s wife — if he has a Avife— to- 
morrow, and settle that.” 

“You don’t mean to charge to see them, do 
you?” exclaimed Chris in astonishment. “Done in 
such a hurry, would they be worth it?” 

“ Oh, people don’t mind when it’s for a charity,” 
answered the lady breezily. “Besides, I’m sure 
they’ll be very good. You will spare no pains in 
getting the dresses ready, and all the little etcet- 
eras, will you? I don’t mind organizing these 
things a bit, but I must have a willing lieutenant 
to carry out the petty details,” she ended with a 
smile. 

Chris thought that upon the whole the “petty 
details” would be quite equal in value to the “ or- 
ganization,” but all she said was: 

“ Of course I will do all I can. But I’m afraid 
you will have to give up the idea of making a 
charge for admission. Mr. Bradfield would never 
allow it, I’m sure.” 


AMATEUR CHARITY. 


109 


Mrs. Graham-Shute, losing her good humor in 
a moment, looked at her with fishy eyes. Who 
was this girl that she should profess to know more 
than she did about her “cousin John?” 

“ Oh, that would take all the sense out of the 
thing altogether,” she said coldly. “If any little 
thing should go wrong, the lights all go out, as 
happened once, I remember — or the people be 
obliged to go on in their ordinary dress, as we had 
to do once for the murder of Rizzio, people can 
grumble or make fun of you if it’s not for a 
charity. Young people don’t consider these 
things. I’m sure if Mr. Bradfield doesn’t like it 
much, he’ll give way if I coax him.” 

Chris said nothing; and as the gentlemen came 
in at that moment, Mrs. Graham-Shute proceeded 
straightway to use her blandishments on her 
cousin. 

“We’re going to give tableaux vivdnts in the 
barn by the stables, John,” she said attacking him 
at once. “Miss Abercarne says we can make a 
lovely stage there with some trestles and things 
that are there already for us. And she says that 
the Brownes will play the smaller parts beauti- 
fully, and I’m going to see them about it to-mor- 
row. And we’re going to do ‘The Sleeping 
Beauty.’ ” 

“I’ve no objection. But if you must have a 
‘Beauty’ picture, have ‘ Beauty and the Beast.’ Of 
course Miss Abercarne will play Beauty, and I’ll 
play the other chap.” 

Mrs. Graham-Shute’s face fell. 


110 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“ We had thought of making Lilith play Beauty ; 
you see it wants some aptitude and a little expe- 
rience in these things to play an important part 
like Beauty. But of course, if Miss Abercarne 
thinks she can do it better ” 

“ She can look it better, that’s the point,” inter- 
rupted Mr. Bradfield with conviction. “ The pret- 
tiest girl must play Beauty, and you can’t deny 
that Miss Abercarne is the prettiest. Ask Wil- 
liam.” 

Mr. Graham-Shute agreed enthusiastically; and 
the girls, who were all three gathered round the 
piano, wondered what was amusing the gentle- 
men so much and making mamma so angry. But 
it was at the suggestion of making a charge for 
admission that John Bradfield put his foot down 
the most cruelly on his cousin’s little plans. He 
would not hear of it. He was quite ready to pay 
them to come in, he said, if that should be neces- 
sary ; but he could not think of allowing people 
who would be his guests on the following night to 
pay for what was not worth paying for. 

And Mrs. Graham-Shute had to swal)v her 
mortification as best she could. 

“Perhaps,” she said, when she had mastered 
her vexation sufficiently to speak, “ we had better 
give up the idea of having the tableaux and think 
of something else. The time is very short; and if 
we are to have a lot of incompetent people in the 
principal parts, it will not, as you say, cousin 
J ohn, be worth paying to see or even seeing at all.” 

“But,” said John Bradfield, who saw through 


AMATEUR CHARITY. 


Ill 


the poor lady’s little manoeuvres and loved to tease 
her, “I won’t have them given up. They will 
amuse you at any rate, and I want to see Miss 
Christina with her hair down. She’ll have to 
wear it down as Beauty, won’t she?” 

Each word was making the poor lady more 
angry. She saw her husband laughing at her, 
and at last she could bear it no longer. 

“ Oh, if the affair is going to be spoiled in this 
way, I wash my hands of it. I thought it was to 
be kept in the family.” 

“What family? The Brownes?” cried John 
Bradfield, as he crossed the room and broke up the 
knot of girls. “ Miss Christina, there’s a difficulty 
about the part of Beauty. I’m sure you won’t 
mind playing it if I play the Beast, will you?” 

Poor Chris grew crimson, and Lilith looked sur- 
prised. It was her mother’s fault that she had 
been taught to consider herself, not an ordinarily 
pretty girl, but a peerless beauty with whom all 
other good-looking girls were out of the running. 

“ Mrs. Shute doesn’t think you are clever enough 
to stand and be looked at. Miss Christina,” he 
went on mischievously. “ But I want you to vin- 
dicate 3^our claims to intellect.” 

“On the contrary,” interrupted his cousin in a 
shrill, offended tone, “ I thought Miss Abercarne’s 
talents would be wasted in such a trifling part. I 
thought she would like better to play the music. 
We must have a musical accompaniment.” 

“Yes, yes, I should like that much better,” said 
poor Chris, who saw that she had been made the 


112 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


instrument for worrying the stout lady to the 
verge of apoplexy. “ Make me of use in any way 
you like, as long as you don’t want me to go on 
the stage.” 

And so the incident ended in a discussion of the 
dresses and in choosing the subjects to be illus- 
trated. 


CHAPTER XII.' 

AN ALARM. 

The next two days were days such as Mrs. 
Graham-Shute loved, full of bustle and confusion 
and needless noise. She herself went out early in 
the morning to call upon the Brownes, and to en- 
list them in her service as foils to Lilith’s charms. 
The Brownes saw through her rnoti^ es, and dis- 
cussed them among themselves in the frankest 
manner. But they were ready for any fun that 
might be going, as people in the country are, and 
at least they could go and laugh at her, which was 
the usual reason privately given for the accept- 
ance of one of Mrs. Graham-Shute’s invitations. 

In the mean time, as she had shrewdly expected, 
all the real work was left to Chris, who had to 
search through old wardrobes, devise costumes, 
and decide upon all the arrangements necessary 
for transforming the deserted barn into a comfort- 
able and draught-tight theatre. Here Mrs. Gra- 


AN ALARM. 


113 


ham-Shute was too modest even to make a sug- 
gestion. 

“Fm quite sure, my dear Miss Abercarne, that 
you are quite equal to see into all these little mat- 
ters. Of course I couldn’t undertake to do every- 
thing myself.” 

So Mrs. Graham-Shute went to call upon the 
Brownes, while Chris and her mother worked and 
tired themselves out at home. As for Lilith and 
Rose, the}^ simply washed their hands of the whole 
affair, and contented themselves with begging 
Chris not to work so hard and not to worry herself. 
“ Mamma was always doing these things, and peo- 
ple were used to the way in which she did them.” 
Lilith occupied herself solely with her own cos- 
tumes, with which she required a great deal of 
help, and which she thought were the only things 
that anybody need trouble themselves about. Rose 
was completely apathetic, and made no offer of 
assistance; and she was of very little use when 
persuaded to lend a hand. 

All this Chris would not have minded much if 
the attentions of Donald had not been the last 
straw. Having received encouragement from his 
mother, he pursued Chris all day long, getting in 
her way and boring her so much that, on the sec- 
ond afternoon, she was at last fain to get rid of 
him by sending him into the town to buy tapes 
and buttons. 

Mr. Graham-Shute took refuge in the study, 
where he bored John Bradfield by talking politics, 
which his host hated. 

8 


114 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


It was about three o’clock in the afternoon when 
a knock at the study-door was hailed by Mr. 
Bradfield as affording a hope of release. 

“Come in,” cried he. And Stelfox entered. 

Both the gentlemen saw at once, by the dis- 
turbed expression of the usually stolid face, that 
something had happened. 

“Well, what is it?” asked his master testily. 

The next moment, with a glance at Graham- 
Shute, Mr. Bradfield jumped up, and making a 
step toward an inner door which led into the li- 
brary, made a sign to Stelfox to follow him. 

But Mr. Graham-Shute’s curiosity was roused. 

“Eh! What? What? It’s something about that 
lunatic of yours, Bradfield, I’m sure!” he cried 
excitedly. “He has got into some mischief or 
other ! I knew he would while I was here. W hat, 
what is it, Stelfox? Has the creature got away, 
or what?” 

Stelfox nodded. 

“That’s it, sir,” he said. 

John Bradfield, who had reached the library 
door, reeled abruptly round. 

“ Got away ! Again ! Good heavens !” 

Mr. Graham-Shute was fidgeting nervously 
about the room ; Stelfox stood like a rock. 

“Then why, why on earth don’t you go after 
him?” said Mr. Graham-Shute. 

John Bradfield interrupted his querulous ques- 
tions. 

“ When did you find it out? And what have 
you done?” 


AN ALAEM. 


115 


“ I found it out a couple of hours ago, sir, and 
I’ve been hunting high and low ever since, and 
I’ve had some of the men helping me. Of course 
it all had to be done on the quiet, so as not to 
frighten the ladies.” 

“ Yes, for heaven’s sake, don’t let my wife hear 
of it,” moaned Mr. Graham-Shute, “or she’ll give 
us twice as much trouble as any lunatic! Do you 
think he’s anywhere about the house?” 

Stelfox glanced at his master, who had turned 
deadly white at the suggestion. 

“I don’t think so, sir.” 

Mr. Bradfield appeared suddenly to rouse him- 
self from the sort of stupefaction into which Stel- 
fox ’s intelligence had thrown him. Crossing the 
room with quick steps, he picked out from a pile 
of canes and weapons of various kinds which 
stood in one corner, a heavy, loaded stick. 

“ We must lose no time,” said he. “ Have you 
any ideas as to which direction he will have 
taken?” 

“ No, sir. All I’m sure of is that he can’t have 
got far. You see, sir, he can’t meet any one with- 
out their finding out that something’s wrong with 
him, even if he should chance upon some one that 
doesn’t know where he belongs to. No, sir. 
What I’m afraid of is lest he should happen upon 
Miss Abercarne. After that day, and seeing what 
he did, he’d frighten her so dreadfully, sir.” 

“He mustn’t meet her! He mustn’t meet her 
on any account,” said John Bradfield with excite- 
ment. 


116 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


And he brought the end of his heavy stick down 
with force upon the ground. 

I hope you don’t mean to brain the poor chap !” 
exclaimed Mr. Graham-Shute apprehensively. 

“No. But unluckily there’s a possibility of his 
braining the first person he meets. Do you know, 
Stelfox, whether he took anything which he could 
use as a weapon away with him?” 

Stelfox hesitated a moment, and then answered : 

“Well, sir, one leg of the mahogany table that 
stands in his sitting-room has been forced off. It 
looks as if he’d been preparing for this job, for 
it’s clear he’s been hacking away at the leg on the 
quiet for some time, so that at last he was able to 
wrench it off.” 

While he spoke, Mr. Bradfield was buttoning 
himself in his ulster. Stelfox went on : 

“ I can’t quite make out how he gave me the 
slip. The door was closed as usual. He must 
have picked the lock. He’s as cunning as they 
make ’em, and nobody would have guessed at 
breakfast time that there was anything up.” 

Mr. Bradfield, who was walking toward the 
front door, stopped suddenly . 

“Where is Miss Christina now?” he asked. 

Mr. Graham-Shute answered. 

“ She’s up in the Chinese room, sewing for this 
tomfoolery my wife’s getting up.” 

“Mr. Donald has just gone up there with some 
things he’s been buying for her in the town,” 
added Stelfox. 

“That’s all right,” said Mr. Graham-Shute. 


AN ALARM. 


117 


He’ll be banging about there for the rest of the 
afternoon, so that if this poor fellow should 
get in there, she’ll have some one to stand by 
her.” 

“Stelfox,” said Mr.- Bradfield, as he left the 
house, “ let somebody watch the door of the Chinese 
room.” 

But this order was given too late. Chris had 
indeed been sewing upstairs, as Mr. Graham- 
Shute said, and Donald had returned from the 
town with his tapes and buttons. But several 
things had happened since then. 

In the first place, Donald had wanted to make 
his return an opportunity of making love to 
Chris. 

“ Why, six pieces of tape ! three reels of number 
forty ! One packet of mixed needles ! Two boxes 
of pins! Mr. Shute, you’re a genius! You 
haven’t made a mistake!” 

“ I should have done it if it had been for anybody 
but you,” said Donald sentimentally. But every 
word you say is engraved upon my heart. And 
don’t call me Mr. Shute. Call me Donald.” 

“I’ll call you anything you like if you won’t 
tread upon the nun’s veiling, and if you will leave 
off snipping the tape with my scissors,” said Chris 
prosaically. 

“ How awfully sharp you are with a fellow ! 
Aren’t you nicer than that to miyhodiL Miss 
Christina?” 

“Not when they interfere with my work.” 

“ But you’re alimys like this to me.” 


118 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“ Always ! I have known yon two days !” 

“ And how long must you know me before you 
leave off snubbing me?” 

As long as you continue to behave as if I were 
a very silly girl and you a very silly — Mr. 
Shute.” 

“You think that’s very cutting, I suppose. Do 
you happen to know how old I am, Miss Aber- 
carne?” 

“ Oh, perhaps you’re only extremely juvenile for 
your years. At any rate, I should have thought you 
were too old to worry a girl at your mother’s in- 
stigation. 

Donald started and grew crimson. 

“I — I — I don’t understand you. Miss Aber- 
carne,” he stammered, seating himself on the table, 
and stabbing the precious nun’s veiling through 
and through with a bodkin which he had taken 
from a work-basket. 

“Don’t you?” said Chris calmly, as she set his 
teeth on edge by tearing a piece of calico. “ Then, 
as I am quite sure you’re not dull-witted, I can 
only suppose that you must think I am. For the 
past two days,” she went on, as she tore off an- 
other strip of calico, “ you have followed me about 
everywhere; and when you have not done it of 
your own accord I have seen Mrs. Graham-Shute 
remind you by a nod or a look that yon had to do 
so. Ah — ha! You didn’t think my eyes were so 
good as that, did you?” 

Donald was redder than before, and furious with 
his mother, Chris and himself. But then the boy 


AN ALARM. 


119 


peeped out in him, and he snatched away the cal- 
ico just as she was about to tear it again. 

“Don’t do that, for goodness sake!” said he, 
wincing. “ Call me names if you like, make me 
out a cad if you like, but don’t set my teeth on 
edge !” 

“ I’m not going to call you names or to make 
you out anything,” said Chris, blushing and laugh- 
ing a little, and looking very pretty in the excite- 
ment of the skirmish. “ But of course I can’t help 
having my own opinion of your behavior !” 

“ I don’t care what your opinion is, and you’ve 
no right to say such things!” cried Donald in a 
loud and dictatorial tone. 

“ I haven’t said anything but that you followed 
me about because your mother told you to,” said 
Chris, looking up with a daring face. 

“It isn’t true! It isn’t true; it’s a — a — well, it 
isn’t true!” roared Donald.” 

“ Yes, it is true, and I know why she does it too !” 
she added in a defiant tone, but with burning 
cheeks. “ And I can tell you that both you and 
she are wasting your time; for I’m not going to 
do the thing you’re both so much afraid of. And 
if I were going to do it,” she added with spirit, 
“ nothing you and she could do would prevent me !” 

For a moment Donald was struck dumb. He 
was not only astonished, but he was filled with 
admiration. He liked the girl’s pluck, and she 
looked “jolly pretty.” 

“And vr — w — what’s that?” he stammered al- 
most meekly. 


120 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“ Why,” said Chris, becoming redder than ever, 
and looking at him half-sh3dy, half-defiantly, 
“ why, marry Mr. Bradfield !” 

By this time Donald had given up all thought 
of contradicting her. Where was the use? So 
he sat down again upon the table, and stared at 
her stupidly. 

“ Oh,” said he at last in a feeble manner, and in 
a tone of reflection. “ Oh, so that’s what you think, 
is it?” 

“Yes, and what I think further is that you’re 
both very silly.” 

“ By Jove !” said Donald softly, “ I think we are !” 

“ And as you agree with me so entirely upon 
this point,” said Chris, as she skipped over the 
piles of material which lay on the floor, and made 
for the door, “you won’t be surprised when I tell 
you that if you dare to come and worry me an}^ 
more I shall tell Mr. Bradfield. And perhaps you 
know whether you would like that !” 

With which tremendous menace, Chris gave 
him a little curt bow, and ran quickly out of the 
room, leaving him in a state of stupefaction. 

Half way along the corridor, Chris slackenea 
her steps. It began to dawn upon her that she 
had just managed to put herself in a Yevj uncom- 
fortable position. She had, she thought, probably 
succeeded in freeing herself from the attentions of 
the boisterous hobbledehoy who had been pursuing 
her. But if, as she judged most likely, he should 
conflde to his mother the details of the interview 
just passed, Mrs. Graham-Shute’s indignation 


AN ALARM. 


121 


would be so great that she would certainly s^ent 
some of it on the girl who had “ insulted” her son. 

With this unpleasant idea in her mind, Chris 
went down to the drawing-room very soberly. 

The moment she entered, she was seized upon by 
Mrs. Graham-Shute. 

“Oh, Miss Abercarne,” began that lady in an 
injured tone, “you’ve forgotten all about the 
music. Don’t you know that the performance is 
to take place to-morrow, and that it doesn’t do to 
leave everything till the last?” 

Chris was not in the humor to be bullied by Mrs. 
Graham-Shute for that lady’s own neglect. 

“I hadn’t forgotten the music, Mrs. Shute,” she 
said. “ But I hadn’t been asked to arrange it, and 
I should not have taken the matter upon myself, 
even if, with the costumes to make, I had time.” 

“Oh, well, somebody must see to it. I’m get- 
ting this affair up for other people’s pleasure, and 
I expect to be helped.” 

“ If you will settle upon the music you want 
played, I am quite ready to play it,” said Chris 
rather shortly. 

It was certainly not for Miss Abercarne’s pleas- 
ure that Mrs. Graham-Shute was getting up the 
entertainment, but she spoke as if she had no other 
object in view. 

At that moment the door opened, and Donald 
came in. He did not see Chris, who was stand- 
ing in the embrasure formed by the big bay-win- 
dow which looked out to the west. Donald slouched 
up to his mother with his usual heavy tread. 


122 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


“Mother,” he said, “I want to speak to you.” 

Mrs. Graham-Shute turned towards him, and 
Chris slipped quickly out of the corner she was in, 
passed round the two, and crossed the room to the 
door. 

“Wait a minute. Miss Abercarne,” said Mrs. 
Graham-Shute peremptorily, catching sight of 
Chris when the girl’s hand was on the door. 

But Chris took no notice. She had been run- 
ning about and tiring herself out for that lady for 
two days, and now at last she rebelled. She saw 
Donald start and turn round, and that was an- 
other reason why she felt that she must make her 
escape. She had had enough of the Graham-Shutes 
for the present ; and as they could find her as long 
as she was in the house, she pulled out a cloak 
from a box-ottoman in the hall, took from a peg 
in the outer hall a lantern which always hung there, 
lit the candle in it, and escaped out of the house. 
She would go and see how the work of erecting 
the stage in the barn was getting on. 

She had to cross the park by a path which led 
alongside a plantation to the group of new build- 
ings, built by Mr. Bradfield, which consisted of the 
stables and some farm buildings, one of which was 
the great barn. The key had been left in the lock, 
so she got in without difficulty. It was quite dark 
inside, and apparently deserted. Raising her lan- 
tern high above her head, Chris saw that the men 
had finished the work of erecting the stage, and 
that they had all left the building. 

While she still stood by the door, she heard 


AN ALARM. 


123 


Donald’s voice whistling to one of the dogs. She 
did not want him to find her here and to inflict 
upon her another scene.” So she shut the great 
door very softly, first taking the key from the out- 
side and replacing it on the inside. And when 
she had shut it, she turned the key softly in the lock. 

“Now,” she thought to herself, “if he should 
think of trying the door, he will find it locked, 
think the place is empty, and pass on.” 

With a sigh of relief to think that she had gained 
half an hour’s peace, Chris crossed the wide barn 
floor and examined the stage. It had been very 
well put up, and was firm to the tread, for she 
tried it herself, putting her lantern down on one 
corner of the stage while she did so. 

She tried a step or two, but stopped suddenly, 
hearing something behind her which was not the 
creaking of a board. She looked round quickly, 
but saw nothing except the bare brick walls, and 
the forms still piled in one corner. So she turned 
round again to face the imaginary audience. 

To her horror, she found that it was a real one. 

A man, evidently from his stealthy walk a man 
with some purpose which was not honest, was slid- 
ing rapidly along the walls toward the door. Chris 
dropped her skirt and held her breath. Was he 
going out, afraid of being discovered? In this 
case she made up her mind to pretend not to see 
him. 

To her horror he gained the door by a last step 
which was like the bound of a wild beast, and took 
the key out of the lock. 


124 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Chris sprang from the stage to the floor, uncer- 
tain what to do until she knew who this was, and 
what his purpose might be. But with a sudden 
notion that this was a thief who meant to assault 
and rob her, she turned toward the lantern, think- 
ing she could elude him better in the dark. 

But the man divined her intention, and sprang 
across the floor with leaps and bounds, uttering 
discordant and frantic cries. 

For one moment Chris was paralyzed with hor- 
ror and could not move : and of that one moment 
the man took advantage to snatch up the lantern 
and turn its light full upon her. 

Then she stood transflxed, looking at his great 
wild eyes in the obscurity, and clasping her hands. 

For it was the lunatic from the east wing. 


CHAPTER XIII. 

MR. RICHARD SURPRISES CHRIS. 

At the first moment of finding herself alone with 
the madman, Chris gave herself up for lost. For 
he carried in his hand a formidable weapon, the 
table-leg with which he had provided himself be- 
fore leaving his rooms. He did not, however, 
brandish it in the air and then bring it down upon 
her head as, in the first impulse of terror, she had 
fully expected. 


MR. RICHARD SURPRISES CHRIS. 


125 


So paralyzed with fright was she, indeed, that 
she shut her eyes, flinching under the expected 
blow. For she w^as standing with her back against 
the little stage, with him in front of her, so that 
escape seemed out of the question. 

As the blow did not come, she opened her eyes 
and looked up. And involuntarily, at the sight of 
Mr. Richard’s face, she uttered an exclamation. 

For he did not look ferocious or frenzied. He 
was regarding her with just the expression of sur- 
prise and shy admiration which she might have 
seen on the face of any other man of her acquaint- 
ance in the circumstances. The only difference 
was that he did not, as another man would have 
done, make any apologies. He stood looking at 
Chris as if she had been a divinity ; and she began 
to hope that she would be able to persuade him, 
with very little trouble, to let her out. Indeed, if 
it had not been for her vivid remembrance of the 
paroxysm of rage into which she had seen him fall 
on the occasion when he had flung a missile at her 
through the window, she would have been abso- 
lutely without any fear of him at all, so greatly 
did his melancholy face and gentle manners out- 
weigh with her the reports of his violence. He 
was so quiet that for her to assume a conciliatory 
manner was easy. 

^^May I have my lantern, please?” she asked, 
holding out her hand, and still keeping her eyes 
rather watchfully fixed upon his face. 

But he did not understand her, although he 
looked eagerly into her face, as if trying to do so. 


126 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Chris began to feel more nervous. She looked 
toward the door, and tried again. 

“Won’t you please unlock the door and let me ' 
go out?” she said, emphasizing her request by 
shyly touching the great key which was swinging 
from his hand by the piece of rough string attached ^ 
to its handle. 

To her great relief, his face lighted up, and he 
nodded. She began instantly to move in the di- 
rection of the great barn door, and he followed her 
very quietly. She had just fear enough left, on 
hearing his footsteps behind her, to turn and wait 
for him so that he might walk by her side. This, 
however, rendered their progress very slow ; for he 
moved with such languid or unwilling steps that 
it seemed to her half an hour before they had 
reached the end of the barn. 

The attempts at conversation which she made to 
relieve the awkwardness of the situation were, 
however, not very successful. 

The first remark she made, which was upon the 
weather, elicited no reply whatever from Mr. Rich- 
ard. Then she turned toward him and asked him 
in very distinct and deliberate tones whether he 
had ever been in the barn before. She thought he 
seemed to understand the question, and that the 
shake of the head he gave was his answer. But 
still he uttered no word. 

When they had come near the door, Mr. Rich- 
ard stumbled, his feet having been caught in a 
tangle of old rope and sacking which lay upon the 
floor. The key fell from his hand. He did not 


3IR. RICHARD SURPRISES CHRIS. 


127 


) appear to notice this, however, although Chris 
j heard the loud clang with which it touched the 
brick floor. 

“You have dropped the key,” she said, as he 
walked on. 

As he took no notice still, she went down on 
her knees, groping among the rubbish with which 
the place was strewn. He turned, and seemed to 
look at her with surprise. But he did not ask her 
what she was looking for. 

“ It’s the key. Don’t you see you have dropped 
the key?” she cried, her alarm again roused by 
this apparently wilful obtuseness. “ Please let me 
have the lantern one moment.” 

To her horror, he began to utter the strange 
I sounds which she had sometimes heard issuing 
I from the East Wing : and she was so much shocked 
' that she instinctively put up her hands to her ears, 
while her face assumed an expression of the utmost 
terror. Then Mr. Richard fell into sudden silence. 

: For a few seconds he stood looking at her as she 
■ knelt on the ground; then he seated himself on an 
I empty wine-case which was among the lumber, 
put his head in his hands and heaved a deep sigh. 

I At that moment Chris caught sight of the key, 

I which had fallen behind a little heap of tins which 
i had once contained tobacco. In snatching it up 
she knocked it against one of the tins, making a 
; great clatter. But the noise appeared not to dis- 
' turb the madman, who did not even look up when 
i Chris rose to her feet, although she trod on some 
ends of board and set them rattling. She feared 


128 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


he was only pretending to be unobservant, ani that 
she should not be able to reach the door before he 
made the attack upon her which his mysterious 
conduct led her to expect. 

She must, however, make the attempt and trust 
to her luck. She began, therefore, by taking two 
or three cautious steps ; and then, when she was 
close to him, she set off at a run. But she had 
hardly done so when he started up and, uttering 
another of the weird cries which so much alarmed 
her, came in pursuit, and reached the door as soon 
as she did. 

Not all her self-command could help poor Chris 
to stifle the scream which she had suppressed be- 
fore. And then, remembering that after all her 
screams were her best chance of escape, as the 
stables were so near that one of the men might 
hear them, she put her mouth to the keyhole of 
the door, and called loudly for help. 

At once Mr. Richard put his hand over her 
mouth. For a moment she could not move : she 
could not even try to cry out again. Remember- 
ing his savage fury on the day when he had thrown 
the goblet out of the window, she gave herself up 
for lost, believing that he would dash her down 
senseless upon the hard floor. For a time, as it 
seemed to her, though it was really the work of a 
few seconds, he kept one hand upon her mouth, and 
held both her hands with the other. He uttered 
from time to time a curious sound which was more 
like a low moan of distress than a cry of fury, and 
although he held her so that it was impossible for 


MR. RICHARD SURPRISES CHRIS. 


129 


her to escape, she could not even fancy that he hurt 
her. 

Her first impulse had been to shut her eyes ; but 
when she found that she had so far come to no harm 
in the hands of the lunatic, she ventured to open 
them, and was instantly struck by the expression 
of his face, which was infinitely sad, infinitely 
wistful, but absolutely mild and kind. 

In the position in which they stood, he could see 
the door of the barn, which she could not. She 
had had only just time to realize that Mr. Richard 
had no present intention of harming her, when she 
saw his eyes glance quickly from her face to the 
door, while at the same time she heard a slight 
noise behind her. 

The next instant she found herself free; and 
looking round quickly to find out the reason of this, 
she saw Mr. Bradfield’s face just as he, after look- 
ing in at the door, withdrew his head quickly. 

With another of the ear-piercing cries which 
could only proceed from a madman, Mr. Richard 
rushed to the door, which was locked on the other 
side before he could reach it. Mr. Richard hurled 
himself against the door, then turned quickly to 
Chris and took the key from her hand. He did 
not do it roughly, however, even in his excitement, 
but gave her a deprecatory look as if asking her 
permission. 

Then it came into the girl’s mind, by an extra- 
ordinary flash of inspiration, born of intense ex- 
citement, that she had some power over this wild 
and dangerous man, and that this was a time to 
9 


130 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


use it. She seemed to see in the same moment — 
first, that he wanted to do some harm to Mr. Brad- 
field, and secondly, that her influence might be 
able to dissuade him from his purpose. So she 
put out her hand again for the key, as she ran after 
him to the door. He was already trying to put 
the key into the lock. 

“No, no,” she said eagerly, looking up into his 
face with eyes which looked sweet in their plead- 
ing, even by the weak light of the lantern which 
he had snatched up again from the floor. “No. 
You are not to try to hurt Mr. Bradfield. Now 
promise me you won’t. Please, please promise !” 

The effect of her entreaty was instantaneous. 
Mr. Richard’s hand fell down by his side ; the ex- 
pression of his face changed from one of fierce ex- 
citement to one of pleasure and even of tenderness. 
Still he said no word, and Chris, perplexed and 
rendered shy by his abrupt change of manner, drew 
back a step and looked down. With the key in the 
door, she was no longer afraid. Besides, had not 
Mr. Bradfield seen her? And although he had al- 
most unaccountably refrained from at once releas- 
ing her from her perilous tete-a-tete with the mad- 
man, he would surely send some one else to do so, 
if he was too much afraid of Mr. Richard to do it 
himself. 

Not that she was in any hurry to be released. 
She could not help taking a strong interest in 
this unhappy man who, even in his mad frenzy, 
stopped short of harming her — nay, even became 
gentle, in the midst of his fury, at a word from 


MR. RICHARD SURPRISES CHRIS. 


131 


her. Believing as she did that more might be done 
for him than had been done in the way of lifting 
the cloud which hung over his mind, she began to 
ask herself, as she stood there, whether it would 
not be possible for her to help liim to escape from 
the confinement in which he was kept, to some 
place where he would have the medical su- 
pervision which she was sure that his case de- 
manded. As this thought crossed her mind, she 
glanced up again at Mr. Richard, who was lean- 
ing against the wall and looking at her with eyes 
in which it seemed to her that there was every 
moment less of madness and more of an emotion 
which touched while it alarmed her to see there. 
She instantly made up her mind to try to help him. 

Approaching him with more shyness, and tak- 
ing care, without appearing to do so, to keep the 
door well in sight, she asked, in a gentle and per- 
suasive voice, speaking in a very slow and delib- 
erate manner, so that he might understand her : 

“Will you tell me, Mr. Richard — have you any 
friends you wish to go to?” 

He watched her face intently, and she felt sure 
that he understood her perfectly. A look of deeper 
sadness came into his face as he shook his head. 

“Why, then, do you want to escape?” 

Although he said nothing in answer, Chris 
thought he understood this question also. For his 
face, which was singularly expressive, instantly 
clouded with a dark and angry look. It occurred 
to Chris that the objects of his anger were the 
people who kept him in confinement. She knew 


132 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


that mad people are credited with this feeling, and 
indeed Mr. Richard had giA^en very strong proofs 
of it. 

Being rather alarmed, in spite of herself, by the 
sudden change which came over his face at her 
last question, she drew back a step, turning toward 
the door. He followed her, and took her left hand, 
which was nearest to him, veiy gently in his, and 
by a little gesture, eloquent though silent, entreated 
her not to go yet. Chris began to tremble, not 
with fear, but with pity. The expression of this 
poor fellow seemed to her one of eloquent entreaty. 
Knowing as she did that he would soon be back 
in the gloomy confinement of the east wing, she 
had not the heart to leaA^e him, as she rightly judged 
that he would have let her do if she had insisted. 

Still, deep as one’s sympathy may be, it is an 
embarrassing thing to find oneself locked up with 
a madman, and Chris found it hard to make con- 
versation for a person who never replied to her ex- 
cept by nods and shakings of the head, or by puz- 
zled looks that showed that she was not understood. 

In this dilemma she could not but be glad when 
at last she heard footsteps outside. After trying 
the door, and finding it locked from within, the 
newcomer having provided himself with a ladder 
from the stables, entered the hay-loft at the top of 
the barn, and put his face through the trap above 
their heads. 

It was Stelfox. 

At the sight of this man, Mr. Richard made at 
once for the door. But Stelfox came down the 


STELFOX IS RETICENT. 


133 


ladder which led from the loft with surprising agil- 
ity, and seizing the gentleman by the arm, pro- 
ceeded to struggle with him. But Mr. Richard 
was more than his match, and he threw Stelfox 
off and again made for the door. 

“ Stop him, miss. For his own sake, stop him 
if you can,” cried Stelfox to Chris, who was stand- 
ing near the door, watching the struggle in much 
anxiety. She at once ran forward and lightly put 
her hand on Mr. Richard’s arm. As Stelfox had 
expected, this was enough. It gave him time to 
approach Mr. Richard from behind, to seize his 
arms, and to bind them together in such a way 
that the madman was helpless. ^ 


CHAPTER XIV. 

STELFOX IS RETICENT. 

Chris burst into tears. 

It seemed to her as if she had betrayed him into 
the hands of his enemies, and she sobbed out : 

“Oh, let him go; let him go! What have you 
made me do?” 

And all the time that she was speaking and 
drying her tears, Mr. Richard, without showing 
any anger at his capture, kept his mild eyes fixed 
upon her. When she looked up at him, with en- 
treaties for forgiveness in her face, he smiled quite 


134 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


kindly at her, and stood still while Stelfox, keeping 
his hand upon his prisoner, explained : 

“ It’s better for him to go home quietly with me 
than for him to be brought back with a bad cold, 
and without more consideration for his feelings 
than if he was a carted deer, at five o’clock in the 
morning.” 

But Chris was not satisfied, although Mr. Rich- 
ard himself seemed reconciled to his fate. Then 
Stelfox went on, exactly as if Mr. Richard had 
not been present : 

“ I’ll tell you what you can do, miss, if you feel 
so sorry for him. Ask him to come back with you 
to the house, and he will do so without any trouble.” 

Chris was reluctant to do this, for several rea- 
sons. 

But he won’t understand, ” she said softly, turn- 
ing so that Mr. Richard should not hear. 

Stelfox’s straight mouth lengthened into a smile. 

“Just you try him, miss,” said he. 

So Chris turned again to the silent man. 

“Will you come back with me to the house?” 
she asked, with a gesture in the direction of the 
mansion. 

His face lighted up at once ; and as Stelfox freed 
his arm, he turned and walked beside her along 
the path through the meadow. They went in si- 
lence, for although Chris was so full of pity and of 
sympathy that she longed to express her feelings 
in some way, his silence made intercourse difficult. 
When they reached the gate into the garden, Stel- 
fox came up to them. 


STELFOX IS RETICENT. 


3 35 


“You had better go on by yourself, miss, now,” 
said he. 

It was evident that Mr. Richard understood this 
too, for his face clouded. Chris held out her hand 
to him with a smile. He took it in both his, and 
held it for some seconds, while his wistful eyes 
gazed upon her face with a look of despair which 
touched her to the quick. 

When she had withdrawn her hand and run 
along the path for a few paces, she heard again 
the weird, harsh sounds which seemed to be the 
only form of speech of which the poor fellow was 
capable. Glancing round, she saw that he seemed 
to be having some sort of altercation with Stelfox, 
over which he was getting very much excited. A 
few moments after, Stelfox left the young gentle- 
man and ran up to her. 

“ The poor young gentleman is in a great way, 
miss,” he said, “because he’s afraid he shan’t see 
you again.” 

Chris drew a sharp breath. This very thought 
had been troubling her. 

“ Can I see him again, Stelfox?” she asked al- 
most eagerly. “Would Mr. Bradfield allow it?” 

One of the dry smiles peculiar to Stelfox for 
a moment expanded his features without brighten- 
ing them. 

“Maybe we won’t trouble him by inquiring, 
miss,” he said; “but if you would care to see Mr. 
Richard again — though he isn’t much of a compan- 
ion for a young lady, I’m afraid — I could manage 
it. And I can warrant he won’t hurt you.” 


136 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


Oh no, I’m sure of that. I wasn’t thinking of 
that !” 

“ It will be a great kindness, miss, if you’re not 
afraid,” said Stelfox almost gratefully. 

But Chris was looking in perplexity back in the 
direction of Mr. Richard, who was waiting as 
quietly as possible by the gate. 

“Tell me one thing,” said Chris, in a puzzled 
tone. “ No, I mean tell me half a dozen things.” 

Stelfox seemed to draw back into himself at her 
words. 

“Won’t it do another time, miss, please?” said 
he respectfully. “ Mr. Richard’s there waiting for 
me, and he might — — ” 

“ Oh no, you’re not afraid of his running away 
now; that’s one of the curious things in the case. 
And another is that you can trust him not to hurt 
anybody, although I have myself seen him try to 
do so. And how is it that he seems to understand 
what one says at one time, and that the next mo- 
ment one may say something to him of which he 
won’t take the least notice? And why does he 
make those dreadful noises, and yet be able to make 
you understand what he means? It doesn’t sound 
like a language that he talks at all, but is it?” 

Stelfox’s face had become a discreet blank. “ Yes, 
it’s a foreign language, miss. One of the South 
African languages, I believe. You see he was 
born and brought up in South Africa, and being 
as he is, not quite like other folks, he hasn’t been 
able to pick up English yet. But I manage to 
make him out, through being with him so much.” 


STELFOX IS RETICENT. 


137 


Chris smiled a little as she turned to go into the 
house. 

Thank you very much for your explanation, 
Stelfox,” she said. ‘‘Even though I know it isn’t 
true.” 

She thought she heard a dry chuckle behind her 
as she went up the steps. 

Chris was more excited than she had ever been 
before in her life. She did not quite understand 
the nature of the emotions which seemed to be 
waging war upon one another within her. 

Chris was going upstairs when, as she passed 
the study door, it flew open as if by a spring, and 
disclosed Mr. Bradfleld, looking rather ashamed of 
himself. He wanted to And out whether Chris 
had seen him at the barn door, and he hoped she 
had not. Chris, on the other hand, was feeling 
both hurt and surprised at his having left her with 
the madman instead of coming in to her rescue. 
While she had laughed at her mother for thinking 
Mr. Bradfleld must be honest because he was 
rough, she had herself, on the same grounds, 
thought he must be courageous. 

“Well, what have you been doing with yourself 
this afternoon?” asked he, in a jocular tone, under 
which she thought she detected some uneasiness. 

“Since I saw you last, Mr. Bradfleld?” asked 
Chris demurely. “At the door of the barn?” 

“Yes, yes,” said he hastily. “At least, since 
that and before that, all the afternoon, I mean?” 

“ First I worked in the Chinese room, making 
the dresses for to-morrow night,” began Chris. 


138 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


‘‘Oh, that tomfoolery,” interrupted Mr. Brad- 
field. “ I wouldnH have anything to do with it if 
I were you. Everything will go wrong, and all 
the blame will be put onto your shoulders. I know 
my gushing cousin and her methods!” 

“ I can’t get out of it now, even if I wanted to,” 
said she rather ruefully. “I don’t feel myself 
that there’ll be much glory accruing to us for the 
entertainment. ” 

“Glory? I should think not. I’m going to be 
miles away myself.” 

“Oh, Mr. Bradfield, do you mean that? They’ll 
all be dreadfully disappointed.” 

“ Can’t help that. Business must be considered 
before pleasure., you know,” he added drily. 

Both were talking as it were to fill up the time 
until they were ready for attack and defence on 
the subject which was occupying the minds of 
both. Then, as Chris moved as if to go on her 
way upstairs, Mr. Bradfield came out of his study 
and shut the door. 

“I’ve bought a new picture,” said he, as he in- 
vited her by a gesture to accompany him to the 
dining-room, “by one of these French fellows. 
Very high art. Gives one the creeps.” 

Before they stood in front of the picture, which 
was one of those heartbreaking war-pictures, tired 
soldiers trudging along under grey, wet skies, 
which form part of the legacy of the Franco-Prus- 
sian war, each knew that the tussle was coming. 

“ You take an encounter with a madman very 
philosophically. Miss Christina,” said he. 


STELFOX IS RETICENT. 


139 


“Not more pliilosophically than you did, Mr. 
Bradfield, when you looked into the barn and left 
me there with him,” cried she. 

He was rather disconcerted by this retort. 

“Oh, er — well,” he began. “You see I could 
not quite make out, from where I was, who was 
with him, and ” 

“And you knew, of course, what I did not — 
that he would not do me any harm.” 

Mr. Bradfield seemed to find this difficult to an- 
swer. It was not until after a minute spent in re- 
fiection of an apparently unpleasant kind that he 
said, rather shortly : 

“ I could see that he was not in one of his fren- 
zied fits, and I thought it best to go away quietly 
while the quiet mood lasted, and send Stelfox, who 
knows how to manage him. Surely you don’t 
suppose I should have left you alone with him if I 
had thought it likely he would do you any harm?” 

“No, I don’t suppose so. Only ” 

“ Only what?” 

“ I can hardly believe that he is ever so very 
dangerous. I can’t help thinking he would be 
better if he were allowed to come 'out sometimes, 
and see people. Do you know, I think I should 
go mad myself if I lived in two rooms, and never 
saw anybody but Stelfox !” 

Chris hurried out this speech hardily, regardless 
of the evident fact that the subject was extremely 
distasteful to Mr. Bradfield, who walked up and 
down the room impatiently, with his hands behind 
him, and repeatedly looked at his watch, as if he 


140 


A PERFECT POOL. 


could hardly spare the time to listen to such non- 
sense. When she had finished, he said shortly : 

“ I am afraid you must allow me to know best. 
My knowledge of him dates from many years 
back, you see, while yours is of the slightest pos- 
sible kind. But you yourself saw him in one of > 
his fits, when he threw something at you through 
the window. Do you want better proof than that 
of his dangerous temper? And do you think a 
person who is born without intelligence enough to 
learn to speak is fit to be trusted among other 
human beings?’’ 

“Never learned to speak!” echoed Chris doubt- 
fully. “ Stelfox said it was an African language 
he talked !” 

Angry as he was, Mr. Bradfield burst into an 
uncontrollable laugh at this. 

Then, at once recovering his gravity, he said 
quickly : 

“ Stelfox is an old woman. Never mind what 
he says. When you want to know anything, come 
to me.” 

“ I want to know something now, Mr. Bradfield, 
please.” 

“Well, what is it?” 

“ Whether my mother has told you I’m going 
to be a hospital-nurse?” 

“A what?” 

“A nurse at one of the London hospitals.” 

“ What on earth do you want to do that for?” 

She hesitated a little before replying, in some 
embarrassment : 


STELFOX IS RETICENT, 


141 


“Well, you see, in spite of all your kindness, it 
is rather a difficult position for me here, isn’t it? 
Or rather it isn’t any position at all. I’m not a 
servant, and I’m not a visitor, and I’m not a 
daughter of the house, but I’m treated as all 
three ” 

“ Who treats you as a servant?” interrupted Mr. 
Bradfield angrily. “ At least, you needn’t tell me. 
Of course it’s my pretentious old porpoise of a 
cousin! I’ll give her a talking to she won’t for- 
get in a hurry ! But why do you trouble your head 
about the maunderings of a snob?” 

“ I don’t trouble my head more about her treat- 
ment than about yours, Mr. Bradfield,” answered 
Chris, smiling. “ I shouldn’t mind being a par- 
lor-maid here at all. Your parlor-maids have rather 
a good time, I think. And I shouldn’t mind be- 
ing a visitor, nor a daughter. But a combination 
of the duties of all three are too much for one pair 
of feminine hands and one simple feminine under- 
standing.” 

“ Oh ! And who’s to take care of my china when 
you’re gone?” 

“Miss Graham-Shute.” 

“Which one?” 

“ Rose. Mrs. Graham-Shute says dusting would 
spoil the shape of Lilith’s hands.” 

“And who is to play the piano in the evenings?” 

“Oh, Mrs. Shute herself could do that.” 

Mr. Bradfield groaned. 

“Shade of Instruction-book Hamilton! What 
has the piano done that it should be exposed to 


142 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


that !” he exclaimed. Then, turning to Chris with 
a frown, he went on: “You say that I have been 
kind to you. Well, don’t you know that you are 
here to protect me from these people? I told you 
so when you first came.” 

“ But you didn’t quite mean it. You like them 
really, or you wouldn’t have asked them to spend 
Christmas with you !” 

“ I like them — in moderation. But now the old 
lady has made up her mind to settle down here, I 
see that I’m in for too much of a good thing. I 
shall have to forbid them the house, or they will 
be in and out like rabbits all day long.” 

“ You won’t be too rigorous, will you? For the 
sake of the poor girls?” 

“You like the girls then?” 

“I’m sorry for them. One is rather spoilt, the 
other is rather downtrodden.” 

“ And the son — he’s been making love to you, 
hasn’t he?” 

“Yes.” 

“ You take it very coolly. Has he asked you to 
marry him?” 

Chris laughed. 

“ Why no, Mr. Bradfield. He’s only a boy, and 
I’ve only known him two days!” 

Mr. Bradfield glanced at her, looked away 
quickly, took up his stand on the hearthrug, and 
drummed on his chin with his fingers. Chris 
looked at the door, and hoped he would let her go. 
She had an idea what these signs might portend. 

“It wouldn’t surprise me, now,” he began, in a 


STELFOX IS RETICENT. 


143 


rather nervous tone, “ to hear of a man wanting to 
marry you when he had only known y ou two daj^s. 
But it would surprise me,” he went on with a 
little awkward laugh, ‘Ho hear that he’d plucked 
up courage to ask you.” 

Before he had reached the last word, Chris was 
at the door. But Mr. Bradfield reached it nearly 
as soon as she. 

“No, no; I want to ask you a question before 
you go. Tell me, you’ve had offers of marriage 
made to you before now, haven’t you?” 

“Oh yes, I have, but — but I don’t like them; I 
don’t like them at all. It’s very unpleasant, you 
know,” she went on rapidly, looking any where but 
at him, “to have to say things people don’t want 
to hear.” 

“Well, I suppose,” said Mr. Bradfield, who was 
not to be put off now that he had strung himself 
up to the required pitch, “the man will come some 
day to receive an answer which is not unpleasant?” 

Chris shook her head doubtfully. 

“ Perhaps. I don’t know.” 

“You say you’ve had plenty of offers?” 

“ I didn’t say that. I said I had had some.” 

“Any from men like — like me?” 

Chris glanced at him quickly, and shook her 
head with a little smile, half demure, half mis- 
chievous. She answered decidedly: 

“ No, not at all like you. In the first place, they 
hadn’t any of them sixpence; in the second place, 
they were mostly boys — at least what I call boys,” 
she added in a tone of patronage. 


144 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


This delighted Mr. Bradfield. Nobody could 
reproach him with being a boy. “ And you didn’t 
care for any of them?” 

“Oh yes, I did. For some of them. In a 
way.” 

“ Well, do you think you could ever care for me 
— in a way, in any way?” 

Chris did not want to be unkind, but she shook 
her head decidedly. 

“ Oh, Mr. Bradfield, what do you want to ask 
me for? I couldn’t help seeing you were going 
to, you know, and I’ve been trying to put off the 
— I mean, I’ve been trying to stave it off. I 
wanted you to see it was no use, and that’s one of 
the reasons why I wanted to go away and be a 
hospital nurse. So it isn’t my fault, really.” 

“No, it’s my misfortune,” said Mr. Bradfield 
shortly. “But I think you’re very silly.” 

“Yes, and my mother will think so too, that’s 
the worst of it,” said Chris ruefully. 

“ And don’t you think the opinion of two people 
like your mother and me is worth more than yours?” 
asked Mr. Bradfield good-humoredly. 

Chris, though she was glad that he was not an- 
gry, did not like the way in which he took her re- 
fusal. For he treated it as a joke, as a matter of 
no consequence, and he stood very close to her and 
stared at her, as she told her mother afterward, in 
a way she did not like. This manner of receiving 
her answer piqued her, while it perhaps frightened 
her a little. 

“ I think my opinion is worth the most,” she an- 


STELFOX IS RETICENT. 


145 


swered, with the color rising in her cheeks, “ for I 
can act upon mine, while you can’t act upon 
yours.” 

Mr. Bradfield drew back a little way, amused, 
surprised, and pleased at her spirit. 

“You’re not afraid of being married against 
your will, then?” 

At this rather ironically-put question the very 
soul of pretty Chris seemed to flash through her 
eyes. 

“No, indeed, I’m not.” 

Then Mr. Bradfield, who had lost his nervous- 
ness, and who went about his wooing with a will 
now that he had fairly started, changed his tone. 
In a voice which had become surprisingly tender 
— or which, perhaps, only sounded tender because 
he did not shout so much as usual — he said : 

“ Wouldn’t you like to make a man happy, little 
Chris?” 

She was too womanly to hear this speech quite 
unmoved, even from a man she did not care 
about. So she evaded it. 

“ I don’t think a woman can make a man happy,” 
she said. 

“I don’t think every woman could. But I’m 
sure you could. At least you could make ine 
happy.” 

“ Well, if I really have the power of giving hap- 
piness, which I very much doubt,” said Chris 
laughing, “ I think I ought to exercise it on some 
man who hasn’t so many sources of happiness as 
you have already, Mr. Bradfield.” 

10 


146 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“Sources of happiness!” echoed he, scoffingly. 
“And pray, what are they?” 

“You have your collection, your curiosities, 
your pictures, your first editions !” 

“All sources of torment, not of happiness. I 
can honestly say that I suffer more if I find that 
old General Wadham has a duplicate of anything 
I buy than I should rejoice over the discovery of 
a new and genuine Raffaele. I buy, I collect, to 
pass away the time.” 

“But you can do so much good, and give so 
much pleasure. Doesn’t that make you happy?” 

“Not a bit.” 

“Yet you are very kind-hearted. You give 
away a great deal in charity,” objected Chris in- 
credulously. “It makes you happy to help the 
poor and needy,” she ended, feeling that she was 
talking rather like a tract. 

“No, it doesn’t. I help ’em to get rid of ’em!” 
rejoined Mr. Bradfield tartly. “ I hate the poor and 
needy ! I’ve been poor and needy myself, and” — he 
wound up with a sudden viciousness in his tone — 
“I know just how they feel toward me, because I 
remember how I used to feel toward any one better 
off than myself.” 

Chris was almost frightened. For Mr. Brad- 
field’s private feelings had for the moment run 
away with him, and he showed the girl, uncon- 
sciously, into a dark corner of his mind, which it 
would have been better for him to have kept hid- 
den while his wooing lasted. She felt as if she 
had overheard something not intended for her ears. 


THE HANDS02IE STRANGER. 


147 


and it was almost with the manner of an eaves- 
dropper who has been caught in the act that she 
moved toward the door. She had long since lost 
the position she had taken up by it, having been 
followed up by her unwanted admirer until she 
was back again by the fireplace. He seemed to 
become aware of her intention to escape quite sud- 
denly, but at the same time he had apparently lost 
the wish to detain her. 

As she opened the door he only called out : 

“ Good-bye, Miss Christina. But mind, I shall 
make you give me another answer by and by !” 

But Chris pretended not to hear. 


CHAPTER XV. 

THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 

Chris went upstairs feeling uncomfortable and 
unhappy. Instead of opening a way out of the 
awkward position in which, as she had truly said, 
she found herself now that the Graham-Shutes had 
come down, she had drawn upon herself a proposal 
which had served only to complicate the situation. 
She had settled nothing, moreover. Mr. Bradfield 
had treated her suggestion of going away in the 
lightest manner, and she could scarcely doubt that 
his persuasions would be successfully exercised 
upon her mother, who was already strongly averse 
to the idea of her daughter’s going away. She 


148 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


knew also that her mother would be disappointed 
to hear that she had not given more encouragement 
to Mr. Bradfield’s hopes of marrying her. These 
thoughts all troubled her, but there was one other 
which distressed her still more — the remembrance 
of the unhappy madman, whose treatment at the 
hands of Mr. Bradfield and of Stelfox was as much 
a puzzle to her as his own conduct. 

Everything in connection with Mr. Richard was 
a puzzle. She had herself witnessed one of his fits 
of fury, culminating in savage violence ; and yet 
surely Mr. Bradfield, whose regard for her she 
could not help knowing to be real, had left her 
alone with him in the barn ! She remembered see- 
ing Stelfox come breathless, pan ting and disordered 
out of the east wing after a struggle with his 
charge, and yet he had scoffed at the notion that 
Mr. Richard would do her any harm, and had even 
offered to let her meet him again. 

Mr. Richard’s own conduct was more bewilder- 
ing still. At one moment he would seem to un- 
derstand everything she said ; the next, he would 
pay no attention whatever to her words. For a 
little while he would be silent and perfectly gen- 
tle ; then he would begin to frighten her by curious 
moans and incoherent sounds. Neither of the ex- 
planations offered was a satisfactory one. Stelfox 
had said that the language he talked was a South 
African one ; but at the idea of this Mr. Bradfield 
had burst into uncontrollable laughter. His own 
explanation, that Mr. Richard had not enough in- 
telligence to pick up even the rudiments of speech, 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


149 


was more incredible still. The girl’s experience 
of madness in any form was very slight; but she 
had never heard of any idiot or lunatic who was 
not able to talk at all. And, whatever his mental 
deficiencies in certain directions might be, what- 
ever mania he might be suffering from, it was clear 
to Chris he was far from being utterly devoid of 
intelligence. 

Rather luckily, so Chris thought a little later, 
Mrs. Abercarne was not upstairs. For Chris thus 
had an opportunity of thinking the events of the 
afternoon over carefully before she saw her mother, 
and decided not to mention any of them. Poor 
Mrs. Abercarne had quite enough to worry her, 
not only in accommodating the housekeeping ar- 
rangements to Mrs. Graham-Shute’s erratic hab- 
its and projects, but in parrying that lady’s per- 
sistent attempts to cast slights upon her and her 
daughter. If now she were to hear all in one 
breath, as it were, of her daughter’s encounter 
with the madman, of her quarrel with ‘‘ that most 
objectionable young person,” Donald, and her re- 
fusal of the rich Mr. Bradfield’s attentions, 
Chris felt that her poor mother would spend a 
Christmas even less merry than she expected to 
do. 

So the girl kept her little secrets to herself, which 
proved easy enough to do, as the preparation for 
the tableaux kept her fully employed and away 
from her mother. 

The following day was a long, confused night- 
mare to Chris. The din of Mrs. Graham-Shute’s 


150 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


voice was in her ears all the morning, and until 
the time when the hastily summoned guests began 
to arrive. 

They had been invited for four, with a promise 
of tea. This, not being within the jurisdiction of 
Mrs. Graham-Shute, duly came to hand. The tab- 
leaux did not. So the guests “stood about,” cold, 
bored and critical, and waited. They had assem- 
bled in the drawing-room, whence Mrs. Graham- 
Shute, at the last moment, had had most of the 
chairs removed to the barn, with a sudden and un- 
necessary spasm of fear that there would not be 
seats enough for the audience. 

Mr. Bradfield, in whose name the invitations 
had been issued, was “ not at home” in liis study. 
Mrs. Abercarne, whom he desired to play the part 
of hostess, was completely overshadowed by Mrs. 
Graham-Shute, who not only occupied a good 
deal of space and made her voice resound to the 
furthest extremities of the rooms, but who had a 
way of looking over the heads of the assembly as 
if she were counting her flock, which suggested to 
the meanest intelligence that she considered them 
all to be for the time being her property. 

Mrs. Abercarne, seeing that the message sum- 
moning the company to the barn tarried in its 
coming, ordered some chairs to be brought in from 
the dining-room, since people who are cold and 
shy and bored look more comfortable sitting than 
they do standing. Mrs. Graham-Shute counter- 
manded the order. 

So the guests continued to stand, and to try to 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


151 


talk and to wonder whether the fat and fussy lady 
was in her right mind. 

Even Mrs. Graham-Shute, happy as she was in 
the consciousness that she was doing “the right 
thing,” began to get rather “fidgety,” and to send 
messages to the performers to know whether they 
were ready. 

And Lilith’s answers, more frantically worded 
every time, were always to the effect that they 
were not. 

At last Mrs. Graham-Shute, telling the lady near- 
est to her, in the innocence of her heart, that “ if 
they waited about any longer, the affair would be 
completely spoiled,” insisted on “making a move” 
in the direction of the barn. And it having by this 
time grown quite dark, while the wind had got up 
and sleet begun to fall, the whole party provided 
themselves with such shelter as was to hand in the 
shape of waterproofs and umbrellas, and started on 
their way across the meadow. 

When they reached the barn, they found the au- 
ditorium dimly lighted with the few lamps and 
candles, while sounds of hurrying and scuffling 
behind the curtains gave them a pleasing assurance 
that they had still some time to wait. It was very 
cold and very draughty, and the spirits of the mis- 
erable audience sank too low for the strains of II 
Trovatore, arranged as a piano-forte duet and very 
indifferently performed, to revive them. 

For it had been discovered that Chris Abercarne 
was the only person who could be trusted to ring 
the curtain up and down, and to be scene-shifter, 


152 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


property-master, as well as wardrobe mistress and 
dresser. Therefore the local amateur musical tal- 
ent had to be called in, in the shape of a young 
lady whose performance was of the slap-dash order 
for the treble, and a young gentleman whose forte 
lay in a steady thumping power for the bass. Mrs. 
Graham- Shute had followed the usual rule in such 
small musical aff airs : When in doubt, play piano- 
forte duets. 

The fiction upon which this maxim was founded 
is probably that two bad performers are equal to 
one good one. Besides, there is always the chance 
that when one performer is wrong the other may 
be right, and that the sounds made by the one who 
is right may drown those made by the one who is 
wrong. 

II Trovatore having come to an end, there was a 
little faint applause, and then a long interval, filled 
up chiefiy with coughs in front of the curtain and 
loud, excited whispers behind it. 

At last, when nobody had any hope left but the 
ever buoyant Mrs. Graham-Shute, the curtains 
did at last wobble apart, and disclosed a group of 
male performers, in nondescript attire, belonging 
to a period so vague that one could only say that 
it was not the present. They held in their hands 
sombrero hats, each adorned with a long ostrich 
feather; but this indication of the Stuart period 
was contradicted by the table cloths which they 
wore round them after the fashion of the Roman 
toga. On a small table in the centre of the stage 
was a large open volume, on which the principal 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


153 


performer laid one hand, while he raised the other 
in the direction of the roof. 

In the bewildered audience there was a rustle of 
programmes, which, written out hastily by Mrs. 
Graham-Shute, while she was “superintending” 
some other work, were not too legible. 

“‘Taking the Bath!^” exclaimed a perplexed 
old lady plaintively, addressing Mrs. Graham- 
Shute, who hastened to explain that the tableaux 
was meant to illustrate “Taking the Oath.” 

But the unconscionable old lady was not yet 
satisfied. 

“Oh yes, of course. Very interesting and very 
well done. And let me see, I’m afraid my his- 
tory is getting rather rusty,” she said apologeti- 
cally. “What oath was it?” 

“Oh,” answered Mrs. Graham-Shute with a lit- 
tle impatience in her voice — for really, you know, 
people might be contented with the pleasure you 
gave them, and take things for granted a little — 
“it was the Covenanters, or the Wyckliffeites, or 
some of those people in the Middle Ages. They 
were always taking the oath for something or other 
then, you know !” 

“Oh yes, so they were, of course,” murmured 
the old lady, ashamed at her momentary thirst for 
exact knowledge. 

“It makes an effective picture, you know,” said 
Mrs. Graham-Shute, relenting when «he found her 
questioner so meek. “ And we wanted to use the 
feathers and the hats.” 

Then the curtains wobbled back again across 


154 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


the picture, and there was a little more applause 
and another duet. Then another long interval be- 
fore the curtains opened upon “The Sleeping 
Beauty !” 

As Beauty herself and her court ladies were all 
in low-necked light dresses, and as the tableau had 
taken some time to arrange, they shook so from 
cold, and looked so blue and pinched, that they set 
the teeth of the whole audience chattering for sym- 
pathy. 

The next tableau, “ Mary, Queen of Scots, on her 
way to execution,” was a more ambitious one, the 
effect being heightened by a recitation from a gen- 
tleman with a slight lisp. It would have gone very 
well but for the fact that something had amused 
Her Majesty, Lilith, Queen of Scots, who shook 
with laughter as long as the picture lasted. 

Then followed an illustration of Millais’ picture, 
“Yes.” This was easy, though it was not very 
like the original. For, as all the male talent 
among the performers was occupied in making it- 
self up for the next and more ambitious tableau, 
the gentleman who makes the lady say “ Yes” had 
to be impersonated by Miss Browne in her broth- 
er’s ulster and a burnt-cork moustache. 

Then followed “ The Fall of Wolsey.” This was 
a great success, and nobody minded that Wolsey 
wore a moustache, thickly coated with flour in- 
deed, but yet perfectly visible to the naked eye. 
The only contretemps was the failure of memory 
on the part of the reciter, who spoke Wolsey’s 
speech from Henry the Eighth, got hopelessly 


THE HANDSOME STRANGER. 


155 


“ mixed” in the middle of it, and had to be audi- 
bly prompted by Cromwell. 

The last tableau of all was unhappily too ambi- 
tious. It was an attempt to illustrate Long’s 
“ Babylonian Marriage-Market but the presence 
of the realistically blacked. Africans unhappily 
suggested a nigger entertainment on the sands to 
the unthinking minds among the audience; and, 
the contagion rapidly spreading, the curtains were 
hastily drawn amid a chorus of titters impossible 
to repress. 

Then everybody, anxious to get home to eat the 
dinners which would undoubtedly be spoiling, 
made a rush for Mrs. Graham-Shute, and told her 
they had enjoyed themselves so much; and that 
the tableaux were beautifully done, and that she 
must be quite proud to have such clever daugh- 
ters and such a clever son. 

And Mrs. Graham-Shute, quite happy, said in 
her best Bayswater manner that she thought they 
were rather good, “ considering that they were got 
up quite in a hurry, you know, and with no help 
at all.” And she kindly added that she was com- 
ing to live at Wyngham, and that she would get 
up “a lot more things” when she had settled down 
among the delighted inhabitants. 

In the mean time Lilith, who had had an oppor- 
tunity, while posing as one of the beauties in the 
marriage-market, to survey the audience as well 
■ as the dim lights would allow, was running to 
Chris in a state of great excitement. 

“ Do you know who the very handsome man is, 


156 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


sitting near the door?” she asked eagerly. Chris, 
who was tired out, and past interest in mundane 
affairs, answered wearily that she did not know 
anybody, and that if there was a handsome man 
among the audience he didn’t belong to Wyngham, 
where there were only ugly ones. Then Rose, who. 
was present, spoke sedately : 

‘‘Oh, you don’t know Lilith, Miss Abercarne! 
She’s always in love with somebody or other; and 
as she’s had time to forget the man she was in love 
with when we left town, she is obliged to fall in 
love with somebody here to fill up the time.” 

However, Chris could give no information, and 
would not interest herself in the matter. Her head 
ached ; she had been too hard at work to spare the 
time for a proper luncheon, but had had a sand- 
wich brought out to her, which she had scarcely 
found time to eat. Nobody had thought of bring- 
ing her a cup of tea. She had promised her mother, 
who was in dread least the barn should be set on 
fire as the result of the afternoon’s entertainment, 
not to leave the building until everybody else had 
gone away and a servant had been sent to put out 
the lights. 

While the performers were changing their dress, 
therefore, in the screened-off spaces on either side 
of the stage which had been fitted up as dressing- 
rooms, she occupied herself in putting out such of 
the footlights as had not put themselves out, and 
in taking down the curtains and folding them up. 

By the time this was done the performers were 
leaving the building in a body, tired and rather 


MR. RICHARD^S MANIA 


157 


cross, smarting as they were with the sense that 
i the whole thing had been something like a failure, 
and that they had not been well treated by some- 
body. Donald, who had not dared to come near 
Chris since the severe snub he had received on the 
previous day, hung about for a brief space in the 
rear of the rest, talking loudly though somewhat 
: vaguely, and pushing about the chairs, in the hope 
of attracting her attention. 

But Chris never once looked round ; so he pres- 
ently followed the others, feeling more bitterly than 
they that he had been made a fool of and rendered 
ridiculous to the eyes of the world. 


I 

CHAPTER XVI. 

MR. RICHARD’S MANIA. 

Chris was busy with the ‘^properties,” which 
had been collected from different parts of the house 
without any formality of asking Mr. Bradfield’s 
permission to use them. Curtains, carpets, valu- 
able Persian rugs, swords, spears, ancient armor 
(some of it from Birmingham), and “antique” 
cabinets (chiefly from Germany by way of War- 
I dour Street). 

! These had all been treated with scant considera- 
I tion by the performers, and they now lay scattered 


158 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


about the stage, or were piled in heaps at the back 
of it, behind the curtains which served as a back 
cloth. 

Chris knelt down, and began to look over the 
things, to see what mischief had been done. But 
she had not been long on her knees when she heard 
the door of the barn creak, and some one enter 
softly. Supposing the intruder to be Donald, she 
did not look round until he had got Upon the stage. 
When she did glance in his direction, she found 
that the visitor was not Donald but Mr. Richard. 
He wore a caped cloak, and held his hat in his 
hand ; and it suddenly occurred to Chris that he 
was the handsome stranger who had roused the 
admiration of Lilith. She rose from her knees, 
and held out her hand with a smile. Mr. Rich- 
ard’s face became instantly bright with pleasure. 
But as his smile of greeting died away, a look of 
anxiety came over his features which it was easy 
enough to understand. He was troubled because 
she looked so tired. It was in answer to his look, 
for he uttered no word, that she said : 

“ I am very tired ; it has been hard work, I assure 
you.” 

For a few moments he held her hand and looked 
anxiously into her face. Then a bright thought 
seemed to strike him, and he led her to one of the 
chairs which had been piled up at the back, disen- 
cumbered it of various ‘‘properties” which had 
been thrown upon it, and drew it forward, inviting 
her to be seated. But she shook her head. 

“ I have too much to do,” she said. 


MR. RICHARD'S MANIA. 


159 


Again he seemed to understand. For he shook 
his head, took gently from her hands the curtains 
she had been folding, and again invited her, this 
time with a gesture more emphatic than before, 
to take the chair he had brought. She had lost all 
fear of him, and without giving him any further 
answer than a little smile and bend of the head in 
acquiescence, she sat down with a sigh. It struck 
her, even at that moment, as being rather curious 
that she should feel more at her ease and more in 
sympathy with this afflicted recluse even than with 
her own mother. As this idea flitted through her 
mind she looked up, and became conscious of a 
look on Mr. Richard’s face which sent a thrill 
through her, whether of pleasure or pain she 
scarcely knew. All that she was sure of v/as that 
the glimpse that she caught before she cast her 
eyes hastily down again was of the handsomest 
face she had ever seen. No eyes at once so bright 
and so tender, no mouth so flrmly closed and 3"et 
so kindly, no profile so clean-cut, had she ever seen 
before. She had forgotten her work : she leaned 
back languidly in the carved chair resting, and 
conscious of a sensation, an indescribably sensa- 
tion, of vivid excitement in which there was no 
fear. As for Mr. Richard, he stood for a few min- 
utes quite still, looking at her. Then she felt his 
hand upon her arm, and looking up, saw that he 
was impressing upon her, still by gesture only, 
that she was to remain where she was, and that 
he was going away. Then he turned, leapt down 
from the stage upon the floor of the barn, and made 


160 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


his way rapidly through and over the rows of 
chairs and benches, toward the door. 

But Chris had felt so much soothed by his silent 
sympathy and attentions that she uttered a little 
cry, unwilling to let him leave her. She was dis- 
appointed to find that he paid no heed; and the 
tears came to her tired eyes. Tears caused chiefiy 
by physical fatigue they were, although it was this 
sudden desertion of her strange, silent friend which 
had set them fiowing. Once started, however, they 
continued to flow for some minutes pretty freely ; 
and she was still drying her eyes disconsolately 
when Mr. Richard came back again. 

And then the reason of his short absence was 
made plain. He held in his hands a cup of tea. 

Before he could reach the stage Chris, quite as 
much ashamed as she would have been if a person 
reputed sane had caught her in her act of childish 
weakness, sprang up and pretended to be again 
very busy. But Mr. Richard’s intellect was evi- 
dently clear enough as far as she was concerned, 
and he shook his head and smiled at her as he gen- 
tly took from her hands for the second time the 
“ properties” she had hastily snatched up. 

She yielded even more meekly than before to 
his mute persuasions, sat down again, and accepted 
the tea with genuine gratitude. 

“ How very kind of you. It is just what I have 
been wanting all the afternoon !” she said. 

To show that he understood, that he sympathized, 
he just patted her hand lightly two or three times. 
This was absolutely the only movement of his 


MR. RICHARD’S MANIA. 


161 


which differed in any way from the conventional 
manners of a well-bred man toward a lady. 

When she had finished her tea, he gently took 
the cup from her, and commanding her with a ges- 
ture of gentle authority to remain where she was, 
he set about the work on which she had been en- 
gaged on his first appearance. 

Under her directions he folded up curtains, ex- 
amined tables, collected weapons and other bric-a- 
brac, until there was nothing left for her to do. 
From time to time, however, she saw him glance 
toward the door, evidently watching for some one, 
and when at last the servant appeared who had 
been sent to put the lights out, Mr. Richard slid 
quickly behind the stage out of sight. 

Chris was sorry that she had had no opportunity 
of bidding him good’bye. She knew that he 
would not dare to come out in the presence of the 
parlor-maid, and she had no excuse to make to re- 
main behind when the girl had put the lights out. 
All she could do was to take care that the barn 
door was left unlocked when they came out. 

On the way across the meadow, Chris took care 
to be left behind, though she thought the girl looked 
at her curiously. She wanted to see that Mr. Rich- 
ard got safely out of his hiding-place, although 
from the intelligence he had shown she had little 
doubt that he would do so. Just as she was pass- 
ing the copse of beeches and American oaks which 
hid the stables from the house, he came up with 
her. As she turned toward him with a start, he 
held out his hand. Just as she had placed hers 


162 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


within it, Chris was startled to hear Mr. Brad- 
field’s voice, shouting some order to one of the gar- 
deners. He was standing at the bottom of the flight 
of steps which led up to the house. 

At first Mr. Richard did not appear to recognize 
his voice. But when Chris started and threw a 
frightened glance toward the house, he followed 
th direction of her eyes, and saw as clearly as she 
did the figure of Mr. Bradfleld in the light thrown 
by the hall lamps through the open door. 

In an instant his whole aspect changed. The 
tender look in his eyes gave place to an expression 
of the fiercest anger; his face seemed transformed; 
he snatched his hand from hers, and uttering again 
the wild sounds which had so much alarmed her 
on the first occasion of her meeting him, he sprang 
away from Chris in the direction of the master of 
Wyngham House. 

But quick as he was, Chris was quicker still. 
Having long since lost all fear of Mr. Richard, 
and being anxious only to save him from the pains 
and penalties he might draw down upon himself 
if Mr. Bradfield should find out that he was at 
liberty, she sprang after the unhappy man and 
almost threw herself upon him. She was afraid 
to speak, lest Mr. Bradfield, who had turned 
sharply at the wild cries uttered by the young man, 
should recognize her voice and come to meet her. 

/ But she pleaded by the touch of her hands, by the 
expression of her upturned face, which he could 
see dimly in the darkness. 

And she conquered. Under the touch of her 


A STRANGE MANIA. 


163 


hands his own clenched fists fell to his sides, while 
his eyes regained their tenderness as he looked at 
her; his feet faltered, and stopped. 

Not until then did Chris grow afraid; not until 
she found that she was resting on the arms of a 
young and handsome man, whose face was alight 
with passion indeed, but with a passion which was 
neither hatred nor fear. 


CHAPTER XVII. 

A STRANGE MANIA. 

Chris Abercarne had had sweethearts at every 
period of her oung life ; little boys of eight and 
nine had presented her, when she was of a similar 
age, with bullseyes, half-apples, pieces of sealing- 
wax, and odds and ends of string and slate-pencil 
— in fact, with the best and most treasured of their 
worldly goods. Later than this, boys of a larger 
growth had written her notes, on pink paper, 
couched in tender terms and doubtful orthography ; 
while later still, offerings of fiowers and sweets, of 
sighs and pretty speeches, had been laid freely at 
her feet. 

While complacently sensible that these contribu- 
tions were not to be despised, Chris had become 
so used to tributes of admiration of all sorts as to 
be hard to impress, and to have earned the repu- 
tation of coldness. When, therefore, as she held 


164 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


the arms of Mr. Richard, to prevent his making 
an attack on his guardian, she was conscious of a 
sensation which was not cold, the experience was 
so new and strange that it frightened her. 

Her success had been immediate and remarka- 
ble. He had at once desisted from his intention 
of making an onslaught upon Mr. Bradfield and 
had stood quite still and submissive under the gen- 
tle touch of her hands. 

Chris glanced up in his face, which was bent 
towards hers. She withdrew her eyes at once, glad 
that it was too dark for him to see the blush which 
she could feel rising hot in her cheeks. And as 
her eyelids fell, after one glance at Mr. Richard’s 
impassioned face, she knew, with a woman’s quick, 
intuitive knowledge which can give no very good 
reason for itself, that the reputed maniac was 
sane. 

But this thought she found as alarming as, and 
even more exciting than, her previous belief that 
Mr. Richard was mad. For to struggle with a 
madman is one thing, and to find oneself in the 
arms of a lover is another. And this latter was 
undoubtedly the situation in which her own action 
had placed her. 

Mr. Richard’s arms, instead of remaining pas- 
sive under her touch, had for a moment closed 
round her. Only for a moment : then, in response 
to her look of alarm, to her movement to free her- 
self, he had let her go. But the moment had been 
long enough for each of the two young people to 
make a discovery: Mr. Richard had found out 


A STRANGE MANIA. 


165 


that he was possessed by a mad hope ; Chris that 
he was dominated by a sane one. She drew back 
from him, modestly and not without a touch of 
maidenly fear ; but Mr. Richard saw clearly enough 
that her alarm was neither very deep nor very 
wounding to his self-esteem. Still he did not 
speak, but stood before her with a contrite expres- 
sion on his face; and at last, when, Mr. Bradfield 
having disappeared into the house, Chris made a 
movement in that direction, he felt bold enough to 
hold out both his hands toward her with a gesture 
which seemed to entreat forgiveness if he had of- 
fended her. 

For answer Chris, who was getting used to this 
courtship without words, put out her hand as she 
said Good-bye.” 

Mr. Richard took it in his, at first with just the 
measure of sedate courtesy which was convention- 
ally correct. But the moment she tried to with- 
draw her fingers from his grasp, he seemed to re- 
alize suddenly that he was losing her, that the joy 
he felt in her presence might never be given him 
again. With rapid and passionate action, his left 
hand had also closed upon hers ; before she realized 
what he was going to do, he had seized both her 
hands and pressed them to his lips. 

Chris, much agitated, snatched away her hands, 
the more quickly, perhaps, that Stelfox at that mo- 
ment became visible to her, standing motionless 
at a little distance, close to the evergreens which 
bordered the copse. He made a sign to Master 
Richard, who, raising his hat to Chris, followed 


166 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


his custodian in the direction of the house, which 
they entered by a side door. 

Chris went slowly toward the principal entrance. 
She wanted to speak to Stelfox, and she wanted to 
avoid Mr. Bradfield, whose head, bending over the 
desk in his study, she could see en silhouette 
against the lamp-light. The blind had not been 
drawn down. Just before she reached the steps, 
Chris saw Mr. Bradfield rise from his chair; and 
by the time she reached his study-door, on her way 
upstairs, he was standing there waiting for her. 
He scanned her face narrowly as she came up. 
Chris, having lost the fiush of intense excitement 
brought into her cheeks by her interview with 
Mr. Richard, was again looking pale and over-tired. 

“ They’ve worked you to death over their tom- 
foolery at the barn,” he exclaimed angrily as she 
came up the stairs. “ Why did you have anything 
to do with it?” Before she could answer, he went 
on, in a more inquisitive tone : ‘‘But where have 
you been? All the others have been back an hour 
and more. I’ve been looking out for you.” 

“I’ve been at the barn, clearing up, putting 
things straight, and seeing that the lights were 
put out,” answered Chris, looking down rather 
guiltily. 

“Didn’t they send some one to help you?” in- 
quired Mr. Bradfield sharply. “ Harriet said she 
put out the lights.” 

“So she did.” 

“ But that’s a quarter of an hour ago. What 
have you been doing with yourself since? You 


A STBANGjE mania. 


167 


have not been staying at the barn in the dark — 
by yourself 9^^ 

There flashed quickly through the mind of Chris 
a kaleidoscopic view of the question whether or 
not she should tell Mr. Bradfleld with whom she 
had been. In that brief moment of hesitation she 
saw the matter in all its bearings and, repugnant 
as the idea of concealment was to her, she decided, 
for Mr. Richard’s sake, not to betray the fact that 
she had been with him. 

She answered therefore, ‘‘No, I was not alone,” 
and as she said this, she unceremoniously ran away 
up the stairs, with the hurried excuse that she 
should be late for dinner. 

“ Are you letting that young fool of a Shute boy 
worry you to death ?” Mr. Bradfleld called out after 
her, in displeased tones. 

“Oh, he doesn’t worry me,” replied Chris disin- 
genuously, as she disappeared into the corridor. 

Chris was angry and puzzled with herself. It 
was quite right and proper that she should feel 
sorry for Mr. Richard, seeing, as she believed, 
that he was not being quite fairly treated by his 
guardian. But why should she feel more than 
this for him? Why should she, Chris Abercarne, 
who had been so cold to all men, and so proud of 
her coldness, feel in this poor fellow an interest 
more tender than any she had felt before for any 
man, an interest so strong that she was ashamed 
of it, and coud not think of it without feeling her 
cheeks flush and her heart beat faster? 

She hurried to her dressing-room, and changed 


168 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


her gown for dinner, delighted to find that her 
mother had already dressed and gone downstairs. 
For she wanted to have time to exchange a few 
words before dinner with Stelfox. This man, she 
felt sure, knew more about his patient’s case than 
he chose to admit. It was he who had given Mr. 
Richard his liberty on that day; he whose infiu- 
ence over the young man was strong enough to 
induce the poor prisoner to return to his prison 
without a protest. 

Chris, who knew that this was about the time 
when Stelfox would be coming out from the east 
wing with a tray to fetch Mr. Richard’s dinner, 
waited in one of the alcoves in the long corridor, 
and at the first sound of the key turning in the 
lock of the shut-up apartments, she ran to meet 
him. 

But Stelfox, who was always cautious, glanced 
towards the door of the study, and then at her with- 
out a word, but with a gesture of warning to her 
to hold her peace for a while. Then, while the 
young lady waited, mute as a mouse, with her 
eyes fixed on the study door, Stelfox very deliber- 
ately locked the door through which he had just 
come, and walked towards a small apartment on 
the right, which contained a telescope and a cup- 
board full of chemicals, and which Mr. Bradfield 
used, when the whim took him, either as an obser- 
vatory or a laboratory. Chris followed him with 
noiseless steps. When she had entered the room, 
Stelfox shut the door. 

You wish to speak to me, ma’am?” he asked. 


A STEANGE MANIA. 


169 


looking straight at her, and putting the question 
with his usual directness of manner. 

“ Yes,” answered Chris softly. “ And I’m quite 
sure you know what it is about.” 

“I suppose, ma’am,” he answered without any 
fencing, “it is about Mr. Richard.” 

“Yes. You let him come out to-day. Surely 
you would not let a madman go about by him- 
self, and expect him to come back quietly as 
Mr. Richard did ! It seems to me, Stelfox, that 
his only mania is a great dislike to Mr. Brad- 
field.” 

A little gleam of surprise, or of amusement, 
Chris hardly knew which, shot out of the man’s 
steady eyes. But the next moment he looked drier, 
he spoke more cautiously than ever. 

“ They do take fancies into their heads, ma’am, 
people that are not quite right do,” he answered. 

“But is he not quite right? Isn’t he only pre- 
tending? And isn’t that why he will not speak?” 
asked Chris, running the questions one into an- 
other in her eagerness. “ The more I see of him the 
more absurd it seems to suppose that he is not in 
his right senses! Do, Stelfox, tell me all about 
him, and why he is shut up here.” 

“I give you my word, ma’am,” answered Stel- 
fox at once and straightforwardly, “ that I know 
no more than the dead.” 

Chris was petrified with astonishment. 

“You don’t know why he is shut up!” she re- 
peated slowly. 

“ No, ma’am. I do know a little more than you 


170 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


do, though I don’t want to tell it yet. But why 
he is shut up here is more than I can tell you.” 

Chris was utterly bewildered. Before she could 
recover sufficiently from her astonishment to put 
another question, Stelfox went on: “And now, 
ma’am, I believe you’re interested enough in the 
poor gentleman to do just one thing for him.” 

“Yes, oh yes. What is it?” asked Chris eagerly. 
“Is it to speak to Mr. Bradfield? Is it to try to 
persuade him to let Mr. Richard come out? Is 
it ” 

Stelfox shook his head with a dry smile. 

“ No, ma’am, it’s precisely the opposite of that. 
What I wish to ask you is not to speak to Mr. Brad- 
field at all about him, and above all not to let him 
know that you have seen him anywhere but at the 
windows of the east wing.” 

Chris was much troubled by this request, and 
after a few moments spent in thought she said 
earnestly : 

But, Stelfox, I think you are doing Mr. Brad- 
field a great injustice. He is a very kind-hearted 
man ; and if he were once persuaded that it would 
do his ward good to come out ” 

“ He would keep him in all the more securely,” 
said Stelfox with a dry laugh. 

And before Chris could recover from the horror 
she felt at these words, Stelfox had disappeared 
from the room in his usual noiseless manner. 


THE BALL. 


171 


CHAPTER XVIII. 

THE BALL. 

The evening of the day following was that of 
the ball. Chris was in the lowest of low spirits, 
and would have shut herself up in her room but 
for Mr. Bradfield, who had insisted on her reserv- 
ing a square dance for him. The strange commu- 
nications made by Stelfox, and her own conviction 
that Mr. Richard was being unfairly treated, made 
her shy and depressed in the society of the master 
of the house, whose sharp eyes detected a change 
in her manner towards him. 

The girl was troubled also on her mother’s ac- 
count. Mrs. Abercarne had been worried and 
exasperated, not only by the airs which Mrs. Gra- 
ham-Shute gave herself, which she could have put 
up with, but by the orders she gave the servants 
on matters concerning the ball. Knowing her 
relationship to their master, and being somewhat 
impressed also by her pretensions, the servants did 
not dare to disobey her ; so that in the attempt to 
serve two mistresses they wasted their time and 
fell to grumbling. A consciousness of the battle 
between the wills of the two ladies pervaded the 
entire household by the time the dancing began, 
and the ball opened in general depression. 

“ So good of you to give this dance for my girls,” 
cried Mrs. Graham-Shute’s loud voice in Mr. Brad- 
field’s ear, as he stood surveying the dancers and 


172 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


looking about for Chris. “ I’ve just been telling 
Mrs. Ethandene so,” she added, glancing at a mid- 
dle-aged lady by her side who was one of the great 
people of the place, and with whom, therefore, 
Mrs. Graham-Shute thought it advisable to strike 
up a friendship. 

“ H’m ! Not much in my line — balls !” said Mr. 
Bradfield grumpily, as he watched enviously the 
young fellow who was at that moment leading 
Chris out for a waltz. 

“Who is that very distinguished-looking girl?” 
asked Mrs. Ethandene, who, having no daughters 
to marry, could afford a little admiration for those 
of other women. 

“That one in the white nun’s veiling, with the 
marguerites in her bodice?” said Mrs. Graham- 
Shute, looking in the wrong direction either on 
purpose or by accident. “ That is my daughter Lil- 
ith. She is hardly out yet, dear girl ; but for my 
cousin John’s ball, I couldn^t refuse her permis- 
sion, you know.” 

“No, no, I don’t mean her,” went on Mrs. Eth- 
andene, a homely person, incapable of taking a 
hint of any kind. “ I mean that tall girl with the 
good figure — the one in grey silk with the flat gold 
necklace?” 

“That,” answered Mr. Bradfield in stentorian 
tones, frowning a little and stepping forward so 
that the lady should not misunderstand, “ is Miss 
Christina Abercarne.” 

Mrs. Graham-Shute, whose face had in a mo- 
ment become flaccid and expressionless, drew her 


THE BALL. 


173 


head well back and murmured a postscript in Mrs. 
Ethandene’s ear : 

“The housekeeper’s little girl. I didn’t know 
you meant her. So good of my cousin to let her 
come, wasn’t it?” 

Now Mrs. Graham-Shute did not wish her 
cousin to hear these words ; but being one of those 
uncomfortable persons who are always more in- 
terested in what is not intended for their ears than 
in what is, he did hear them. And he utterty con- 
founded and exasperated his dear cousin by saying 
in the same loud voice as before : 

“ There wasn’t any goodness about it. There’s 
no goodness in being kind to a pretty girl. I gave 
the ball just because she likes dancing. Nothing 
else would have induced me to turn my house up- 
side down like this.” 

Mrs. Graham-Shute could only affect to laugh 
at this speech, as if it had been some charming 
pleasantry. But she did it with such an ill grace, 
being indeed extremely mortified, that it was plain 
she w^as on the verge of tears. 

Meanwhile Chris was not enjoying herself so 
much as Mr. Bradfield had wished her to do. Her 
partner was a local production, being indeed no 
other than one of the famous Brownes, without an 
assortment of whom no Wyngham gaiety could 
be considered complete. He was the younger part- 
ner in the principal firm of solicitors of the town, 
and was, as she afterward learnt, looked upon as 
“a great catch.” No Wyngham lady, however, 
had as yet caught him, and young Mr. Browne, 


174 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


modestly conscious of the interest he excited in the 
feminine breasts of the neighborhood, conceived it 
as more his duty than his pleasure to distribute 
his attentions as equally as he could among the 
maidens of the place. In the course of his philan- 
thropic wanderings, therefore, he had fallen tem- 
porarily to the lot of Chris, who was perhaps not 
5"et sufficiently acclimatized to appreciate the honor 
as it deserved. 

For young Mr. Browne’s attractions did not in- 
clude the gift of conversational brilliancy, and 
Chris found the tete-a-tete hard work. 

‘‘You go in a great deal for theatricals, don’t 
you?” she said, thinking, from what she had heard, 
that this was a safe shot. 

But he shook his head with a smile, which had 
in it not more than the minimum of the contempt 
the average Englishman always shows for any 
form of recreation in which he is not proficient. 

“No, I don’t. But my brothers and sisters do. 
Amy, the second one, acts awfully well. They 
did the ‘Vicar of Wakefield’ last year for the Blind 
School, and her Olivia was ever so much better 
than Ellen Terry’s. Everybody said so. She’d 
make her fortune on the stage, that girl would. 
Of course my father would never let her go on ; 
but lots of people would say it’s a pity.” 

After this, as his interest in the stage evidently 
languished, Chris tried art. Did he sketch? No, 
young Mr. Browne didn’t sketch himself, but his 
brother Algernon did, awfully well too, so that 
everybody said it was simply disgraceful laziness, 


THE BALL. 


175 


and nothing else, which kept him from exhibiting 
at the Academy. And this was the limit of young 
Mr. Browne’s interest in art. 

“No doubt, living down here so close to the sea, 
you take more interest in yachting and boating 
than anything else.” 

“ Well, I can’t say I’m much of a sailor myself,” 
answered Mr. Browne modestly. “But Guy — 
that’s my eldest brother — can sail a yacht better 
than any of these men who get their living by it. 
My father keeps a little yacht, and I assure you 
that when they’re out in dirty weather the captain 
gives the boat over to Guy.” 

“ Indeed !” said Chris with as little incredulity 
as possible. And at last, tired of fishing about in 
these unpromising waters, she came straight to 
the point with : “ And what is your favorite rec- 
reation? Or are you too studious to have one?” 

“ Oh, no. Walter’s the studious one of the fam- 
ily. He’ll make a name for himself some day, for 
he’s got the real stuff in him, that chap!” 

“So that you’re the idle one who looks on and 
does nothing?” 

“ I’m afraid I am. But they ’re all so clever that 
there’s nothing left for me. And I think even 
they are cut out by my cousins at Colchester. It’s 
an odd thing, but there are three distinct branches 
of the Browne family, one at Colchester, one 
here, and one as far north as Caithness — though 
we haven’t the remotest idea how they got up 
there.” 

“In the Wars of the Roses perhaps,” suggested 


176 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Chris wildly, feeling that she must say something, 
and that it didn’t matter much what it was. 

Young Mr. Browne quite caught at the notion. 

‘‘Very likely,” said he, waking up into vivid in- 
terest. “ Any national convulsion like that causes 
the great families to shift from their old places, 
and distribute themselves over the country. I dare 
say such disturbances do some hidden good in that 
way, don’t you think so?” 

“Oh, no doubt,” answered Chris feebly, wish- 
ing that she were in the arms of the brother who 
could waltz better than anybody else. 

The next partner she had was a little man nearly 
a head shorter than herself, as dark as young Mr. 
Browne was fair. He was of a different type too, 
the type that goes up to town now and then and 
thinks it the proper thing to speak of the place it 
lives in as “this hole!” In essentials, however, 
there was a stronger resemblance between young 
Mr. Cullingworth’s way of looking at life and 
young Mr. Browne’s than the former would have 
been ready to admit. 

“Do you like this place?” was his first almost 
contemptuous question. 

“Yes. I like it better than any place I have 
ever lived in,” answered Chris exuberantly. “I 
don’t seem ever to have known before what fresh 
air was.” 

“Oh, fresh air, yes!” replied young Mr. Cul- 
lingworth, his tone betraying several degrees more 
of disdain than before. “ One gets a little too much 
of that. But of most of the other things which 


THE BALL. 


177 


help to make life endurable, one gets next to noth- 
ing down here. It really is the slowest hole you 
ever were in, and I shall be obliged to think much 
worse of you than I should like to do if you don’t 
heartily wish yourself out of it before very long.” 

“ I’m horribly afraid I shall have then to recon- 
cile myself to that fall in your estimation,” said 
Chris smiling. ‘^I like this place much, much 
better than London. London is only pleasant when 
you’re rich enough to get out of it whenever you 
like. Now we were not rich enough, my mother 
and I. So we were very glad to come down here.” 

“ Awfully lucky for us down here,” said Mr. 
Cullingworth, without enthusiasm. For he was 
not so deeply buried in the provinces as to fall in 
love with every pretty face he met. “Wonder 
what on earth made this Bradfield take it into his 
head to settle down here, don’t you?” 

“ I suppose he had heard of it as a nice place, 
and a healthy place,” suggested Chris. 

“ He’s been awfully lucky in being taken up by 
all the best people in the place, hasn’t he?” 

Now Chris had nothing to say to this, for she 
thought “ the best people” were very lucky in be- 
ing taken up by Mr. Bradfield. They were mostly 
poor and proud, which is not a nice combination, 
and they showed their poverty in their eagerness 
to avail themselves of Mr. Bradfield’s invitations, 
and their pride in their unanimity in not inviting 
him back. 

Mr. Cullingworth, luckily, did not wait for an 
answer, but resumed with admiration : 

12 


178 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


“ Why, there’s all the very best society of Wyng- 
ham here to-night, there is indeed. I suppose you 
know them all, don’t you?” 

Chris, who thought the assembly decidedly un- 
prepossessing, regretted her ignorance, and said 
she supposed they would rather look down upon 
her than seek her society. But Mr. Cullingworth, 
as representing the ‘‘best society” of Wyngham, 
was magnanimous. 

He didn’t think there was any feeling of that 
sort, ’pon his word he didn’t. There might have 
been, of course, if some little bird had not happily 
whispered about that Mrs. Abercarne was the 
widow of an officer in the Army, and a cousin of 
Lord Llanfyllin’s. As it was Mr. Cullingworth 
felt sure that the “ best people” were ready to re- 
ceive her and her mother as equals. 

“If you want to know who anybody is, you 
know, why I’ll tell you,” said he obligingly. 

Chris, obliging too, asked the name of a tall, 
bald-headed man, who, although not particularly 
interesting in appearance, looked like a gentleman. 
Mr. Cullingworth’s face fell a little, but he an- 
swered at once : 

“ Oh, that’s Sir George Brandram. Don’t know 
much about him. He’s a Wosham man.” 

His tone was so cold and his manner intimated 
such strong disapproval that Chris did not like to 
ask more about Sir George, fearing that he might 
be the hero of some terrible scandal. It was only 
later that she learnt that the sting of Mr. Culling- 
worth’s account of him lay in the words : “ He’s a 


THE BALL, 


179 


W osham man . ” For W osham , four miles off along 
the coast, was the deadly rival of Wyngham; and 
it was a point of honor among their respective in- 
habitants to acknowledge no good in the dwellers 
of the rival town. 

Meanwhile the giver of the ball was enjoying 
himself very little better than the young lady in 
whose honor it was given. Mr. Bradfield loved to 
see his house full of guests, having to the full the 
pleasure of the self-made man in ostentatious hos- 
pitality. He took a cynical delight in the knowl- 
edge that these people, who were civil to him for 
what he had, and not for what he was, considered 
themselves his superiors, and would have disdained 
to shake hands with him while he was still a poor 
man. 

But to-night his enjoyment of his new position 
was spoilt for him by a chance word, uttered in all 
good faith by Lilith Shute, who was ashamed of 
her mother’s behavior toward Chris, with whom 
she had struck up a friendship, which would have 
been a warm one if she could have had her will. 

Lilith was dancing the Lancers with her host, 
whose constant glances in the direction of Chris 
Abercarne she could not fail to notice. 

How nice she looks to-night !” said Lilith, who 
looked pretty enough herself to afford a word of 
praise to a rival beauty, and who did not believe 
in her friend’s supposed designs upon the rich 
cousin’s heart. 

‘‘She always does look nice,” said Mr. Bradfield 
gruffly. “ And she knows it too — a little too well, 


180 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


I expect, like all you girls who think yourselves 
beauties !” 

He was jealous, entirely without reason, of the 
younger men than himself, with one or other of 
whom she was dancing or talking whenever he 
glanced in her direction. 

I don’t see how a girl is to help it, when it 
makes such a difference in the amount of attention 
she gets,” giggled Lilith. “Not,” she went on 
haughtily, “that the attention of any one here 
would be likely to turn her head.” Then a mali- 
cious thought crossed her mind, taking the place 
of her magnanimitj^. “ Chris Abercarne’s thoughts 
are too much occupied with somebody else for her to 
derive much entertainment from her partners,” she 
said demurely. 

Mr. Bradfield looked at her scrutinizingly ; he 
dared to hope that Lilith was going to say some- 
thing encouraging to himself. 

“ Somebody else !” he asked abruptly. “Who?” 

Lilith shrugged her shoulders and laughed mis- 
chievously : 

“ Ah, that’s more than I can tell you. All the 
information I can give you is that he is very, very 
good-looking, that he met her to-day in the park 
and walked a little way with her as she came back 
from the town, and that she looked very much con- 
fused when she met me in the garden, and would 
have liked, I’m sure, to think I hadn’t seen her.” 

Now there was a little mischief in this speech, 
for Lilith did not think Chris had behaved quite 
well in pretending not to know whom she meant 


THE BALL. 


181 


when she described the stranger present at the tab- 
leaux. But, to do her justice, she had not the least 
intention of rousing the real anger she instantl}^ 
saw in Mr. Bradfield’s face. Not only in his face 
either; for Lilith felt, when his hand next touched 
hers in the dance, that he was trembling with rage. 

“Oh ho,” said he, with an exclamation which 
was meant to sound like a laugh, but which was 
in truth anything but mirthful, “so she meets a 
sweetheart on the quiet, does she?” 

Lilith, rather frightened, and seeing that she 
had made more serious mischief than she had in- 
tended, hastened to answer : 

“Oh, no, no. I didn’t mean that. I dare say it 
was only an accidental meeting. I — I ” 

Mr. Bradfield interrupted her sternly : 

“ Have you ever seen him before, this fellow 
whom she met?” 

“Only once,” answered Lilith quickly. 

“Where was that? Was she with him?” 

“N — no, she wasn’t with him. It was the day 
of the tableaux. He was sitting on one of the 
back seats, and nobody seemed to know who he 
was. Not even Chris, for I asked her.” 

Mr. Bradfield was evidently much puzzled. All 
the golden youth of Wyngham and the neighbor- 
hood were dancing in his drawing-rooms that 
night, and who the fortunate young man could be 
who was considered good-looking by such a con- 
noisseur as Lilith, and whom Chris condescended 
to meet on the sly, he had not the remotest notion. 
Certainly a man’s ideas of another man’s good 


182 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


looks differed considerable from those of a girl ; but 
he could not, running over in his mind the eligible 
young men of the neighborhood, conceive that any 
one of them should find favor in the very partic- 
ular eyes of both the beauties. 

With his usual directness, he set about solving 
the mystery at once. Taking Lilith back to her 
mother as soon as the dance was over, he went in 
search of Chris, whom he found sitting in the din- 
ing-room eating an ice, and looking bored by young 
Cullingworth’s conversation. 

“Miss Christina, I want to speak to you,” said 
he shortly. 

Chris, upon whom a hazy dread began to fall as 
to the subject upon which he wished to interrogate 
her, followed him with reluctance into the embra- 
sure of the window, which had been kept free from 
refreshment tables on purpose for tete-a-tetes of a 
more interesting sort. 


CHAPTER XIX. 

MR. BRADFIELD RECEIVES A SHOCK. 

Mr. Bradfield commanded rather than invited 
Chris to be seated, and planted himself in a rather 
menacing than lover-like attitude before her. He 
had just remembered, luckily for him, that he must 
tone down his martinet-like manner, as he had no 


MR. BRADFIELD RECEIVES A SHOCK. 183 

claim whatever on the girl to give him a right to 
be offended. 

“So you’ve found a sweetheart!” he began, in 
a voice which he had subdued to the pitch of a 
confidential tete-a-tete, but which betrayed his feel- 
ings more clearly than he had intended. 

A bright pink blush rose in the pale face of Chris 
to the very roots of her hair. She hesitated a mo- 
ment before replying, but her hesitation was not 
of a kind to inspire her interlocutor with hopeful 
feelings. She looked frightened, but she looked 
also as if she did not mean to be bullied. He did 
not wait for her to reply before he said : 

“ Did you tell your mother what I said to you 
the other day?” 

Chris just glanced up into his face, and resolved 
not to pretend to misunderstand. 

“No, Mr. Bradfield.” 

“Why not?” 

“ It would make no difference.” 

“You’ve found some one else you like better?” 

Again Chris hesitated. She had grown very 
white, and was chilled by a fear of this man. 
There was something hard, something cruel in his 
manner, which let her for the first time into the 
secret of those qualities of doggedness and remorse- 
lessness in his nature which had helped him to get 
on in the world. She rose quickly, with the feel- 
ing that she could hold her own better at her full 
height than when she was under the direct fire of 
those strange eyes. She was in terror lest he 
should find out who her companion had been on 


184 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


her walk through the park that afternoon. The 
truth was that it had been Mr. Richard who, after 
evidently lying in wait for her among the trees, 
had accompanied her a little way, as usual in si- 
lence, but with a manner in which there was no 
longer any attempt of concealment of the fact that 
he loved her. But this was the one fact beyond 
all others which Chris was anxious to hide from 
Mr. Bradfield. For the unhappy Mr. Richard 
would certainly be made to suffer for it if his guar- 
dian had any suspicion that he was his own rival. 

Mr. Bradfield, impatient at her silence, spoke 
again : 

“ I suppose you will think I have no right to ask 
you such questions. But you are under my roof : 
if I cannot be your accepted husband, I am at any 
rate for the time your guardian, and I hear that 
you meet some one else,” added he, his tone betray- 
ing the jealous anger that he felt. 

Now Chris knew what his information was, and 
who his informant had been. She turned to him 
quickly, and laughed uneasily. 

“Lilith told you — she saw me in the park.” 
Then, with a fast-beating heart, dreading the an- 
swer, she asked: “Didn’t she say who it was?” 

“She said she didn’t know. But perhaps it’s 
some plot between you girls, and she knows his 
name as well as you do.” 

“There is no plot between us, and I never said 
anything to her about him,” said Chris quickly. 
“ But I don’t deny that I have met a gentleman 
belonging to the place once or twice by accident. 


MR, BRADFIELD RECEIVES A SHOCK. 185 

by accident entirely ; and as you take it so seriously, 
I shall certainly take great care not to tell you his 
name.” 

Mr. Bradfield was evidently furious ; but he only 
said drily: 

“ Does your mother know of it?” 

“No. But,” added Chris defiantly, “you can 
tell her if you like. ” 

Her spirits had risen, for during the last few 
moments she had felt pretty sure that either her 
words or her manner or both had diverted his sus- 
picions, if he had had any, from the right quar- 
ter. 

And all that poor Mr. Bradfield got by his talk 
with her was the loss of his dance; for Chris went 
away and hid herself rather than walk through the 
quadrille with him. 

The next day was the faded, uncomfortable, 
heavy-eyed day which usually succeeds to a night 
of unusual dissipation. Mrs. Graham-Shute put 
the climax to the general discomfort by insisting 
that they should all, directly luncheon was over, 
drive some miles in the cold to inspect ruins. 

“ But why in the world to-day?” as Lilith grum- 
bled aloud. “ Since they’ve stood there since A. 
D. 50, mightn’t they manage to stand there a few 
days longer?” 

But Mrs. Graham-Shute saw no reason in any 
point of view but her own . They had an after- 
noon to spare ; there were ruins to be seen ; there- 
fore ruins must be seen on that spare afternoon. 
So they all drove off in the cold, looking very blue 


186 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


about the nose, and feeling too cold to go to sleep 
even under a mountain of rugs and furs, and no- 
body at all got any pleasure out of the expedition 
except John Bradfield, who drove Lilith over in 
his dog-cart, and managed, by steady persistence, 
to get Chris to consent to drive back with him. 
He was so gentle, so humble, touched just the right 
chords of gratitude in her so deftly under his seem- 
ing clumsiness, that the girl could not hold out 
against him. However, she made her own condi- 
tions. 

“Mind,” she said, holding up a warning fore- 
finger in its pretty glove, as he made a collection 
of rugs for her comfort, and held out his hand to 
help her to mount, radiant with his victory. “ You 
are not to try to converse with me except upon the 
subjects I specially choose, for I’m too cold to be 
civil unless I have everything my own way.” 

Mr. Bradfield, glad to get her upon any terms, 
consented with a roar of laughter. But Mrs. Gra- 
ham-Shute, who overheard this speech from Chris? 
was overwhelmed by the girl’s audacity. 

“ I wonder how my cousin puts up with such 
impudence,” she said in a tone of exasperation, as 
she fioundered, panting, through the mud which 
at this season was an indispensable adjunct to the 
ruins. “ She puts on all the airs of a person of 
consequence, like her horrible old mother. Thank 
goodness, I’ve escaped an afternoon with her at 
any rate.” 

“ That’s just what she said of you when she re- 
fused to go, my dear !” said her husband gently in 


MR. BRADFIELD RECEIVES A SHOCK. 


187 


her ear, as, tottering under her weight, he helped 
her into the landau. 

Chris need not have felt apprehensive. Mr. 
Bradheld had thought matters over and decided 
that the fortress was not to be stormed — that his 
best plan lay in starving out the garrison by a long 
and careful siege. Besides, it was too cold for ar- 
dent love-making; their jaws were stiff as they 
drove in the face of the winter wind. So that 
Chris was pleased to find that her drive back with 
Mr. Bradfield was a good deal pleasanter than her 
drive out had been in the company of Mrs. Gra- 
ham-Shute. 

It was Mr. Bradfield who chose the topics of 
conversation, after all. For he was so anxious to 
prove his good faith that he gave her no opportu- 
nity of starting any subject of her own, but be- 
guiled the way by stories of his life on Australian 
sheep farms. His experience had been hard, and 
some of his tales of hardship and privation, while 
they had the desired effect of securing the young 
girl’s sympathy, made her shudder. 

“Why, I would rather have remained as poor as 
you say you were all my life, than have made a 
large fortune in such hard ways as those !” she ex- 
claimed. 

Mr. Bradfield’s face clouded suddenly at her 
words, so that Chris began to wonder what there 
was in her words to offend him. 

To break the silence which followed, she said : 

“You must be very glad those hard times are 
over !” 


188 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


As he answered, one of the hard looks his face 
could assume at times made his features look re- 
pulsive in their rugged harshness. 

“Glad!” he exclaimed. “There isn’t a crime I 
wouldn’t sooner commit than go through them 
again !” 

Chris glanced at his face, and a sudden remem- 
brance of Mr. Bradfield’s unfortunate ward flashed 
into her mind. Without reason, by a woman’s 
sensitive instinct, she connnected the words he had 
just uttered, the hard, harsh spirit which they be- 
trayed, with the treatment of the man whom he 
kept shut up in such a mysterious manner in the 
east wing. 

By this time they were passing the Wyngham 
station. A few passengers were coming out in a 
straggling thread, for the London train had just 
come in. Although the afternoon was light for 
the time of year, it was too dark to distinguish 
clearly the faces of these people, although some- 
thing of their flgures were discernible. Mr. Brad- 
field’s gaze was suddenly attracted by the appear- 
ance of a man who was walking in the road a lit- 
tle in front of the dog-cart. As soon as he caught 
sight of him, he stopped abruptly in the middle of 
a remark he was making to Chris. As his voice, 
besides being very gruflp, was very loud, Chris saw 
nothing remarkable in the fact that, as he stopped 
speaking, the man in the road turned quickly round. 

“John Bradfield!” he cried, stepping back to the 
roadside. He had not spoken loudly, so there was 
nothing surprising in the fact that Mr. Bradfield 


AN OLD FRIEND. 


189 


drove on, apparently without hearing the stranger’s 
voice. 

But glancing at him as they drove on, Chris was 
able to see, even in the twilight which was fast 
closing in, that his face was distorted and drawn 
with a strong emotion. 

And the emotion was fear. 


CHAPTER XX. 

MR. BRADFIELD WELCOMES AN OLD FRIEND. 

It was impossible for Chris not to be struck by 
the change in Mr. Bradfield’s face, impossible for 
her to avoid the supposition that this change was 
caused by the sight of the shabby man who stood 
on one side as the dog-cart went by, and called to 
“John Bradfield” by name. 

Her companion was too shrewd not to know this. 
He turned to her therefore and said : 

“ That was a narrow squeak. Never had such 
a fright in my life as that fellow gave me; I 
thought I’d run over him.” 

Chris was deceived by this speech, and she said 
innocently : 

“He knew you, Mr. Bradfield. He called to 
you by name !” 

Mr. Bradfield turned in his seat, as if to have 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


lUO 


another look at the man ; but they had turned a 
corner, and he was out of sight. 

“Did he though?” said he as if in surprise. 
“Well, I dare say he’ll find me out if he wants 
anything of me. People have a trick of doing 
that.” Then, as if dismissing the subject from 
his thoughts, he said: “Well, haven’t I been 
‘good’? Will you come out with me again?” 

Chris laughed with some constraint. Mr. Brad- 
field certainly had behaved well, but she did not 
want to put his good behaviour to any further tests. 
There was about him all the time a certain air of 
an angler playing his fish, which made her ask 
herself whether she were not in truth compromis- 
ing herself by receiving from him even those at- 
tentions, slight as they were, which she could not 
avoid. 

They reached home before the rest of the party, 
and Chris ran upstairs to her mother, while Mr. 
Bradfield went to his study. Stelfox, who made 
himself useful about the house when he was not in 
attendance upon Mr. Richard, was just placing 
upon the table a great pile of letters. This being 
Christmas-eve, the mid-day post had been some 
hours late. 

Mr. Bradfield glanced searchingly at Stelfox. 
He was rather afraid of that faithful servitor, who 
was too useful a person, and perhaps too shrewd a 
one, to be dismissed. Manners, the weak-eyed sec- 
retary, was away for his holiday, so that master 
and man were alone. After a few moments’ rapid 
debate with himself, Mr. Bradfield asked a ques- 


AN OLD FRIEND. 


191 


tion which had been very near his lips since the 
night before, when Lilith’s communication had 
made him uneasy. 

“How is your patient to-day, Stelfox?” he 
asked as an opening. 

“ About the same as usual, sir.” 

“Been giving you much trouble lately?” 

“Not more than usual, sir.” 

“ And that’s not much, eh?” 

“No, sir, that’s not much.” 

“ Do you think he gets any more rational as time 
goes on? Any more fit to be about?” 

Mr. Bradfield put this question in the same tone 
as the rest, but the look with which he accompanied 
the words was more penetrating, more curious 
than before. 

He wanted Stelfox to look up, but the man per- 
sisted in looking down. 

“ He’s about the same, sir, as he’s been ever since 
I’ve known him.” 

“ Just as mad? Just as unfit to go about uncon- 
trolled?” 

“Exactly the same, sir.” 

Now Mr. Bradfield was not satisfied with this 
answer. He looked angrily at all that he could 
see of Stelfox’s stolid face, and then said shortly : 

“ I haven’t seen you to speak to about that affair 
of Wednesday last — you know — when he got 
away.” 

Stelfox raised his eyes for a moment, as respect- 
fully as ever. 

“No, sir, you haven’t.” 


192 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


“ Did you have any difficulty with him in get- 
ting him to come back? It was in the barn you 
found him, wasn’t it, where I told you he was?” 

‘‘Yes, sir, it was in the barn. I had no diffi- 
culty with him.” 

“ And of course you have taken good care that 
he shouldn’t get out again.” 

Now this was a question undoubtedly, although 
he hardly meant it to be taken as one. It was sup- 
posed to be a matter-of-course remark, that hardly 
needed an answer. Stelfox’s answer was, perhaps, 
just the least bit aggressive in tone. 

“ I have taken the same care of him as usual, 
sir; I can’t do no more.” 

JohnBradfield, as he glanced again at the man’s 
face, looked doubtful still ; but he saw that he had 
gone as far as he dared. 

“I am quite satisfied with your care of him, 
Stelfox, quite satisfied. Of course I’m always 
anxious, always nervous. I shouldn’t like him to 
get out again and frighten the ladies.” 

“There’s no fear of that, sir,” said Stelfox as 
stolidly as ever. 

“ It’s a very awkward and responsible position 
that I have taken upon myself, in undertaking to 
keep an insane person under my own roof, ” pursued 
John Bradfield. “The expense is nothing to me, 
and of course I don’t mind the danger to myself. 
His father was a very valued servant of mine, and 
there’s nothing I wouldn’t do for his son. I could 
never have borne to see the boy taken away to a 
pauper lunatic asylum. ” 


AN OLD FRIEND, 


193 


He paused, and seemed to expect some comment. 
So Stelfox said : I understand, sir ; I quite under- 
stand.” 

But he looked as if he did not. 

“ And the hard part of it is,” went on Mr. Brad- 
field, in a loud, aggrieved tone of voice, ‘4hat if 
some friend, say, of his father’s, were to turn up 
now and to want to see him, ten to one he’d think 
I ought to have treated the lad differently, put him 
into an asylum, or do something or other that I 
haven’t done!” 

Again he paused. Stelfox, still stolid, still ap- 
parently without vivid interest, said: ^‘No doubt, 
sir.” 

Mr. Bradfield would have given anything to 
know exactly what was passing in the man’s mind : 
Stelfox would have given anything to know what 
was passing in his master’s. 

Mr. Bradfield impatiently turned on his heel and 
began rummaging among the letters the post had 
brought, tossing on to his secretary’s already well- 
covered table all those directed in handwritings he 
did not know, and opening the rest, only to throw 
them for the most part half -read into the waste 
paper basket. 

However, ” he went, on still reading, ‘‘ I have 
the satisfaction of knowing I’ve done my best for 
the lad. And so have you, Stelfox. And I may as 
well take this opportunity of telling you that you 
will start the New Year with new wages. No 
objection to another ten pounds a year, I suppose?” 

Not the least, sir, and thank you,” replied St^l- 
13 ' 


194 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


fox, moving aside from the door as somebody 
knocked at it from the outside. 

Then Mr. Graham-Shute put his head in. “ Any 
admission?” said he, and he brought the rest of 
himself inside without waiting for an answer. 

It’s d — d cold in these parts, Bradfield, and you 
keep your horses too fat. We’ve been a week on 
the road back from those d — d ruins. I’m frozen 
to death. There was only one comfort, and that 
was that my little Maudie’s jaw got too stiff to 
move. So we had a heavenly spell of silence on 
the way back.” 

He walked to the fire, and began slowly taking 
off his silk muffler, his gloves, and his overcoat in 
the cheery warmth. 

Stelfox had quietly withdrawn. 

“By the bye, Bradfield,” went on Mr. Graham- 
Shute, agitating his jaw violently as if under the 
impression that in the arctic atmosphere outside 
something had gone wrong with it, “you’ll never 
guess who we met down in the town just now, 
looking about for you.” 

John Bradfield’s back was turned to his cousin, 
who might otherwise have seen that the approach- 
ing communication was no surprise to him. He 
was expected to show curiosity, however, so he 
asked : 

“ Well, who was it?” 

“ Why, your old pal, Alfred Marrable, who went 
out to Australia with you over thirty years ago. 
He doesn’t seem to have done as well out there as 
you did, by the looks of him. I knew him in a 


AN OLD FRIEND, 


195 


moment, dark as it was, by that odd limp in his 
walk. So I stopped the carriage and spoke to him. 
It appears he has come down here on purpose to 
see you. So I put him on the road. We were 
full, or I would have given him a lift.” 

‘‘Much obliged to you, I’m sure,” said John 
Bradfield, rather more drily than he meant to 
do. 

Mr. Graham-Shute, who took an intelligent in- 
terest in his cousin’s affairs, stared at him in as- 
tonishment. 

“ What, don’t you want to see him?” he asked. 
“ I thought I was bringing you the best piece of 
news you’d had for a long day. For you’ve gen- 
erally such a good memory for your old friends, 
and I know that you and Marrable were always 
great chums. Did you fall out, or what?” 

“No,” said John Bradfield, recovering himself. 
“ But the longest memory is not eternal, and it’s 
seventeen years since I saw him last. I’ll do all I 
can for him, certainly, for the sake of auld lang 
syne.” 

The words were hardly out of his mouth when a 
footman knocked at the door, and informed his 
master that a person wished to see him, a person 
who gave the name of Marrable. 

“Oh yes. I’ll go and see him myself,” said John 
Bradfield, who hoped that his cousin would in the 
mean time take himself off, and allow him to wel- 
come his old friend Marrable en tete-a-tete. 

“ I dare say he’ll be too shy, after all these years, 
to come in at all,” said he as he went out. But 


196 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


what he thought was : “ I’ll do my best to get rid 
of him.” 

Graham-Shute’s voice, however, rang out cheer- 
ily after him : 

“You have forgotten Marrable if that’s what 
you think of him !” 

John Brad field went slowly down the few stairs 
which led into the inner hall. By the time he 
reached the bend which would bring him in sight 
of the newcomer he had made up his mind. 

“ I must take the bull by the horns,” said he to 
himself. “After all, the man’s a fool, and will be 
easy to manage, even if he does know or guess a 
little too much.” 

With all his knowledge of the world, John Brad- 
field was capable of making the mistake of think- 
ing a fool can be easy to manage. 


CHAPTER XXI. 

MR. MARRABLE’S merry CHRISTMAS. 

Surely no human creature ever trod this earth 
who by his appearance seemed less likely to inspire 
fear than Mr. Marrable. 

A fair, colorless middle-aged man, under the 
middle height, and inclined to be stout, he was the 
most inoffensive looking person in the world, and 
to judge by his demeanor as he stood in the hall, 
holding his shabby tall hat in his hand and looking 


MR. MARRABLE'S MERRY CHRISTMAS. 197 

about him with an air of awe-struck astonishment, 
the humblest and the meekest. 

As John Bradfield approached him, with out- 
stretched hand, and a rather forced smile of wel- 
come on his face, Mr. Marrable withdrew his gaze 
from the objects around him, and fixed it nervously 
upon his old friend. 

“Well, Alf,” began John Bradfield as he came 
up to his abashed old friend, “ this is a strange 
meeting after all these years, isn’t it?” 

The other man, after hesitating a moment, 
thrust his hand with great delight into that of his 
old friend, and instantly became as talkative and 
lively as a moment before he had been taciturn and 
depressed. 

“Why, John, so it is,” he exclaimed, with a 
smile broadening on his plump and placid face, 
turning his head a little toward his companion 
after the manner of those who are slightly deaf. 
“ And glad am I to see you again, old chap, and 
looking so well too, and so prosperous;” and 
he gave a shy glance round him. “ Do you know,” 
he went on, growing buoyantly confidential under 
the infiuence of his friend’s hearty grip of the 
hand, “ that I thought you wanted to cut me ! That 
you had grown too grand for your old friends !” 

“No! When was that?” asked John Bradfield 
shortly. 

He was not a good actor, and Marrable looked 
at him doubtfully as he answered : 

“Why, out in the street just now, outside the 
station. I knew you in a moment, wrapped up as 


198 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


you were, and cutting such a dash too. But then 
you were always a dashing fellow, even in the old 
days, John!” maundered on the unprosperous one 
admiringly. “ I called out to you, but you took 
no notice. And I said to myself: ‘Ah, he’s like 
all the rest of ’em ; he knows his friends by their 
coats. He ’ ” 

“Then you ought to be ashamed of yourself,” 
returned John Bradfield’s loud voice. “I never 
turned my back on an old friend yet, and I’m not 
going to begin now. Did you come down here to 
see me?” 

“Yes,” answered the other meekly. “Well, at 
least, the fact is, I heard of you quite by chance, 
and of how you’d got on, and as I’m down in the 
world, and I remembered your good heart in the 
old days, John, I thought I’d just run down and 
have a peep at you; and then, if I wasn’t wanted, 
I could come away.” 

Mr. Bradfield felt a sensation of relief; these 
words seemed to show him a way out of his diffi- 
culty. But the next moment he was undeceived. 

“ If you don’t want me here, John, I’ll just spend 
a few days in the town here. I dare say I can find 
lodgings good enough for me easily enough, and 
all I’ll trouble you for will be my fare back to town, 
which you’ll not begrudge me, for old acquaintance 
sake.” 

Mr. Bradfield inwardly called down upon his old 
friend’s head something which was not a blessing. 
He was not going back to town then, but proposed 
to potter about the place, chattering of course to 


MR. MARRABLE^S MERRY CHRIST 31 AS, 199 

every one he met about his old friendship with the 
rich Mr. Bradfield, and either letting fall or pick- 
ing up some scrap of information which it would 
be prejudicial to the rich Mr. Bradfield’s interests 
to be known. 

The first suggestion which came into John Brad- 
field’s mind was bribery. But the next moment’s 
reflection told him that this was always a danger- 
ous method. For if he were to make Marrable a 
handsome money-present with the condition that 
he must take himself back to town immediately, 
that gentleman, little gifted as he was with intel- 
lectual brilliancy, could hardly fail to see that his 
old friend must have some strong motive for wish- 
ing to get rid of him. His curiosity would be 
aroused, and he could hardly" fail to find out some- 
tliing which would serve as an excuse for black- 
mailing in the time to come. The only alternative 
to this course was, John Bradfield felt, to keep his 
old chum under his own eye while he remained at 
Wyngham. So he said : 

Come, come, that’s not the way I treat my old 
friends. Stay and spend Christmas here with me, 
Alf . And when it’s over and you go back to town, 
where I suppose your heart lies — for you’re a thor- 
oughbred cockney, I know — I’ll see what I can do 
to set you on your legs and give you a fresh start 
in life.” 

Although Marrable was pleased, he was not so 
overwhelmed with joy and gratitude as John Brad- 
field had expected. In truth, Alfred, on learning 
by chance of the change in his old friend’s circum- 


200 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


stances, had taken it for granted that he would be 
allowed — nay, invited — to share in John Bradfield’s 
luck as, in the old days of struggling and hardship, 
he, then the more prosperous one of the two, had 
shared what he had with John. An invitation to 
spend Christmas, even with the promise of help 
afterward, was only a small measure of the hospi- 
tality he had expected; his answer betrayed his 
feeling. 

‘‘Thank you, thank you, John. I thought you 
couldn’t have forgotten old times altogether; I 
thought you had more heart than that. As for 
London, I seem to have lost my old fondness for 
it somehow. The old folk are dead ; my poor wife 
died there as soon as we got back ; I seem to have 
got disgusted with the bricks and mortar some- 
how. There’s nothing I should like better than to 
settle down for the rest of my da3^s in a nice coun- 
try place as you have done.” 

John Bradfield did not take this hint, as his 
friend had hoped. But he invited Marrable to 
come upstairs, and said he would see what he could 
do for him in the way of evening dress. 

Unfortunately, this was not much. John Brad- 
field was slim, Alfred Marrable was stout. The 
struggle of the latter to get into the clothes of the 
former left him therefore both uncomfortable and 
apoplectic. No persuasions, however, would in- 
duce him to go down to dinner in his own shabby 
morning clothes; for Marrable flattered himself 
that he was a lady’s man, and that he looked his 
best — which he did not — in evening dress. 


MR. MARRABLKS MERRY CHRISTMAS. 201 


John Bradfield, who had been turning over the 
situation in his mind, gave his old friend a hint as 
they went downstairs. 

“ I say, old chap,” said he in a confidential tone, 
‘4here’s one thing I want you to do to oblige me.” 

‘^Anything, old man, anything.” 

“You see I’m a great man here, not the poor 
starveling I was when you and I went out in the 
steerage to Melbourne thirty years ago. I don’t 
think I’ve grown much of a snob, but still one 
doesn’t care, when one’s got on, to have all the 
servants talking about their master having been 
glad enough to do things for himself once. Do 
you see?” 

“ Oh yes, yes, of course. I understand perfectly. 
You may rely upon me, old chap. I flatter myself 
I’m not wanting in tact, whatever my faults may 
be.” 

John Bradfield, although he feared that Alfred 
was giving himself too high a character, went on : 

“So no talk about old times and hard times, 
or — ” his voice trembled a little here, for this was 
in truth a point on which he was most anxious — 
“our old acquaintances. ‘Let the dead past bury 
its dead,’ as the poet says,” he continued jocularly, 
“ and we’ll have a merry Christmas over its grave. ” 

“That’s it, that’s it; so we will,” agreed Mar- 
rable heartily as they reached the drawing-room 
door. 

In all good faith Alfred Marrable had given his 
promise to be discreet, and in all good faith John 
Bradfield had told him that he should have a merry 


202 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


Christmas. But unluckily the powers of darkness 
in the shape of Mrs. Graham-Shute were against 
him. Indeed John Bradfield had had his doubts 
about her, and as he entered the drawing-room 
with his protege in his ill-fitting clothes, he whis- 
pered to the latter : 

“ Never mind the Queen of Snobs,” with a glance 
in the portly lady’s direction. 

Mrs. Graham-Shute was already looking at them 
with an unpromising stare. She had a hatred of 
shabbily-dressed people, the keener that it was only 
by a great effort that she herself escaped that cat- 
egory. She had been indignant when her husband 
stopped the landau to speak to this “person,” and 
now to have the “ person” obtruded upon her no- 
tice in clothes which did not belong to him was an 
outrage to her dignity which at once dispelled the 
good humor which is traditionally supposed to be- 
long to fat people. If people must invite their 
humble friends, they should not ask them to meet 
guests of greater consideration. It is extremely 
awkward and unpleasant, as one didn’t know where 
to draw the line between too much civility, which 
made the humble friend “presume,” and too little, 
which might offend one’s host. 

In the case of Alfred Marrable, Mrs. Graham- 
Shute certainly did not err in the former manner. 
Her disdain of the poor man, who was just the 
sort of weak-minded person to be impressed by her 
foolish arrogance, had a crushing effect upon him ; 
so far from becoming loquacious on the subject of 
old times, the poor man could scarcely be prevailed 


3IR. 3lAliRABLE'S MERRY CHRISTMAS. 


203 


upon to open his lips at all. The glare of the cold, 
fish-like eyes, turned full upon him at dinner — for 
she sat opposite to him — even took away the poor 
man’s appetite; and John Bradfield was able to 
congratulate himself that night that the evening 
had passed off (according to his views) so well. 

The next da}" was Christmas Day, and Alfred 
Marrable, always under the watchful eyes of his 
careful old friend, began it beautifully. He went 
to church, was almost pathetically civil and atten- 
tive to the ladies, delighted to carry their prayer- 
books and to render them such small services, of a 
like kind, as he could. At luncheon, by which 
time Mrs. Graham-Shute had grown sufficiently 
used to him to ignore him altogether, he thawed a 
little, and needed the warning eye of his host to 
restrain him from making appropriate Christmas 
allusions to old times over his glass of port. 

But it was at the Christmas dinner that even- 
ing that his discretion melted away like wax be- 
fore the fire, and he made up for lost time and past 
reticence with a loquacity even more dangerous 
than John Bradfield had feared. 

He alluded to a change in fortunes, some for the 
better, some for the worse, when they had got as 
far as the turkey. When they reached the plum- 
pudding he got so far as to remember old friends 
by the initials of their names. And he broke down 
altogether into amiable chatter about thirty years 
ago at the cheese. 

John Bradfield frowned, but by this time frowns 
were thrown away upon Alfred. Nothing short 


204 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


of taking him by the shoulders and turning him 
out of the room would have checked the flow of 
his half-cheerful, half-sorrowful, wholly sentiment- 
al reminiscences. 

Mr. Graham-Shute, observing John Bradfleld’s 
disapproval in his face, and being moreover really 
interested in the past life of the extraordinarily 
successful man, mischievously encouraged Marra- 
ble by his sympathetic questions ; while his wife, 
who considered these allusions to a ragged past in- 
decently revolting, tried in vain to talk more loudly 
than ever to drown the remarks both of Alfred 
Marrable and her liege lord. 

“ Dear me, that’s very interesting ! And so you 
walked six hundred miles up the country with only 
one shirt apiece, and your feet for the most part 
tied up in straw for the want of boots!” said Mr. 
Graham-Shute with deliberate distinctness, thus 
cleverly epitomizing for the benefit of the entire 
company a rambling story which Alfred had been 
pouring into his ear. 

“I’m sure we shall have skating to-morrow, at 
least almost sure, though of course one never 
knows, and the frost may break any minute, and 
then there would be an end of everything, just 
when the ice in the parks will be getting into nice 
condition, and when there are sure to be some 
ponds and things down here that will bear, though 
I think myself that skating in the country is al- 
ways more risky than in town, because there are 
not so many appliances and things, in case you are 
drowned,” babbled out Mrs. Graham-Shute, with 


MR, MARRABLKS MERRY CHRISTMAS. 205 

one nervous eye on dear cousin John” and the 
other on that wretch William, who was by this 
time cracking nuts while he listened to Alfred, and 
who took care, as his wife raised her voice, to raise 
his. 

The unhappy Marrable went on : 

‘Wes, indeed. Times are changed and no mis- 
take since then. Fancy that fellow there,” and he 
gently indicated, by a wave of his bunch of grapes, 
his unhappy host, “ fancy him coming to me with 
a coat on his back that he bought for eighteen- 
pence from the ship’s steward, and saying to me: 

‘ Alf, my boy, it’s all up with me. I’m stone-broke, 
and I believe I’ve got a touch of the fever upon 
me, and I know I can never stand the hard life 
out there in the bush ; I shall just go and throw my- 
self into the dock basin before another night has 
passed over my head.’ Fancy that, now, for a man 
that must have thousands and thousands a year, to 
judge by the style he lives in, and the goodness of 
the wines he gives us.” And Mr. Marrable ended 
with an expressive smack of the lips. Mr. Gra- 
ham-Shute nodded appreciatively. 

“ Was that when you first went out?” he asked 
with interest. 

“Oh, no. We’d been knocking about out there 
for some time, and not doing much good, either 
of us. That was the odd part of it, that Bradfield, 
who’s got on so well since, didn’t seem to do any 
better than 1.” 

Being unable to silence her husband, Mrs. Gra- 
ham-Shute had now turned her attention to occu- 


206 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


pying “dear cousin John” with conversation, so 
that William’s delinquencies should escape his no- 
tice. Otherwise, it is possible that John Bradfield 
might have been exasperated into some heroic 
measure to stop his old friend’s tongue. As it 
was, Mr. Graham-Shute’s kindly “ Dear me, yes, 
that was curious!” encouraged Marrable to go 
on. 

“Let me see, where had I got to? Oh, yes, I 
remember, Bradfield had told me he meant to do 
away with himself; he was so down on his luck, 
poor chap ! I didn’t know what to say to him ; the 
little capital I had gone out with was all gone; 
when who should we come across but the old chum 
we had gone out with, the only one of the three 
who had done any good — Gilbert Wryde?” 

At the mention of this name Mr. Graham-Shute 
suddenly put down his nutcrackers, and leaned 
back in his chair. 

“Ah!” cried he, “that’s the name I’ve been 
trying to remember; I knew there were three of 
you who went out to Australia together, and I 
couldn’t remember the name of the third. I never 
saw him, but I’ve read some of his letters to John 
when they were little more than lads ; and they 
were full of most uncommon sense for such a young 
chap. I thought to myself then that he ought to 
get on. So he did, did he? Gilbert Wryde!” 

As he repeated the name deliberately and slowly, 
to impress it upon his memory, both John Bradfield 
and Chris looked up, rather startled. Chris was 
the more impressed of the two, for she had not been 


MR. MARRABLKS MERRY CHRISTMAS, 207 


expecting to hear the name, while John Bradfield 
had. 

Quite innocent of the effect his information was 
producing, Marrable resumed his story. 

“ Get on ! I believe you. As well as our friend 
John here himself, and in half the time. He was 
a right sort too, old Gilbert, and he took us by the 
hand, and set us on our legs again, and there was 
no more talk of suicide after that. He set me up 
in business in Melbourne, and he took John away 
with him up country, where he’d made his own for- 
tune at sheep-farming, and where he evidently put 
him in the way of making his. Poor Wryde! 
He didn’t live long to enjoy his fortune. I never 
saw him again.” 

John Bradfield had been listening to this speech 
with only the smallest pretence of attending to 
what his cousin Maude was saying. Marrable, 
catching his ey e, and being in too jovial a mood to 
understand the menace in his host’s expression, 
turned to him with the direct question : 

“Ah, John, you wouldn’t be in the position you 
are to-day if it hadn’t been for Gilbert Wryde, 
would you?” 

John Bradfield’s face was as white as his friend’s 
was rosy. He answered at once, in a hard, me- 
tallic tone : 

“We did each other mutual good service, Wryde 
and I. I’m not likely to forget him, certainly.” 

“ Ah,” pursued Marrable,” if he’d only been alive 
and here to-day, it would have been a merry meet- 
ing indeed, eh, John?” 


208 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


CHAPTER XXII. 

LEFT OUT IN THE COLD. 

Even Mrs. Abercarne, at the other end of the 
table, could see that something had gone wrong. 
Mr. Bradfield’s voice, as he loudly assented, had 
not the right ring, Mr. Graham-Shute looked mis- 
chievous, his wife looked anxious, while Chris 
looked as if she had been frightened. She gave 
the signal hastily to Mrs. Graham-Shute, even in 
the midst of the laughter and cracker-pulling which 
was going on among the young people. Lilith and 
Rose looked surprised, but both Mrs. Graham-Shute 
and Chris jumped up in a hurry, quite eager to leave 
the scene of what looked like the beginning of a 
serious quarrel. For, although no angry words 
had passed between the gentlemen, Marrable’s ef- 
fusive geniality in face of his host’s ever-increas- 
ing abruptness looked ominous to those who knew 
the temper of the latter. 

When the ladies were assembled in the drawing- 
room, and Chris had sat down to the piano to play 
some carols, Mrs. Graham-Shute, for want of a 
better, was forced to make a confidante of the 
obnoxious lady-housekeeper. 

“Exceedingly unpleasant, was it not, to have to 
endure the presence of that extraordinary individ- 
ual at dinner !” she said to Mrs. Abercarne, in a 
confidential tone. “ Of course, it is very good of 
my cousin to remember his old friends, but it’s a 


LEFT OUT IN THE COLD. 


209 


pity he cannot find some who would make them- 
selves more agreeable to the rest of us. Such a 
pleasant party we should have been, too, if it hadn’t 
been for that !” 

Now Mrs. Abercarne had been smarting for the 
past week under the snubs and slights which Mrs. 
Graham-Shute had administered to her daughter 
and herself, and she was by no means mollified by 
the Bayswater lady’s momentary condescension. 
She pricked up her ears, figuratively speaking, re- 
joicing in her opportunity. 

“Yes,” she answered frigidly, drawing herself 
up and surveying Mrs. Graham-Shute in a man- 
ner full of stately vindictiveness. “ I quite agree 
with you. Mr. Bradfield is a great deal too good 
to his old friends ; and they do make themselves 
excessively disagreeable, and the party would be 
much pleasanter without them.” 

And poor Mrs. Graham-Shute, try as she would, 
could not look as if she did not perceive that this 
speech was a barbed one. She turned away ab- 
ruptly, and taking the place at the piano which 
Chris had just vacated, began hurriedly and very 
badly, with vicious thumps upon the keys, a hymn 
about “peace on earth and goodwill toward men.” 

Chris had stolen into the recess formed by the 
great bay-window on the western side of the room. 
She had heard a sound like the breaking of glass 
outside, and had left her place at the piano to look 
out. Raising the heavy curtain and pulling back 
the blind, she saw dimly through the moisture on 
the window-pane the forms of two men, one of 
14 


210 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


whom was so close that he seemed to have been 
trying- to look through the window. She could see 
just enough of them to know that the figures were 
those of Mr. Richard and his keeper Stelfox, and 
her heart leapt up and her brain seemed suddenly 
to be on fire as there rang in her ears the words 
used by Mr. Marrable about Gilbert Wryde. 

Gilbert Wryde! Gilbert Wryde — Mr. Brad- 
field’s benefactor! She remembered the portrait 
bearing that name, and she remembered Mr. Brad- 
field’s change of expression at the sight of it. That 
expression which she had taken for annoyance 
must then have been caused by some more tender 
emotion, to which also the subsequent disappear- 
ance of the miniature must be traced ! And then 
the likeness between the portrait of Gilbert Wryde 
and the solitary occupant of the east wing? Chris 
felt sick with excitement, bewilderment and fear. 
She would have given the world to be able to for- 
get the problem which was beginning to trouble 
her peace of mind, to shut her mind to the questions 
she could not help asking. 

In the mean time, a great impulse of pity for 
Mr. Richard, spending his Christmas alone except 
for his attendant, and peeping in through the win- 
dows at the warmth and light inside the room he 
was not allowed to enter, seized her and caused her 
to find an opportunity of leaving the room unob- 
served. Putting on a hooded cloak, and wrapping 
it tightly round her, she went out into the garden. 

Chris, who had run down the steps, paused at the 
bottom. The impulse upon which she had acted 


LEFT OUT IN THE COLD. 


211 


in coming out into the night was the kindly one of 
exchanging a Christmas greeting with the outcast 
from the east wing. But to this impulse had suc- 
ceeded a fit of maidenly shyness. Twice since 
their last meeting in the barn she had encountered 
Mr. Richard in the park in a manner which could 
scarcely have been the result of chance, and on each 
of these occasions the silent happiness he had shown 
in her society had touched her deeply, so deeply 
indeed that she could not help feeling a little self- 
consciousness about this meeting which she herself 
was bringing about. Whether she would have 
turned back, following the dictates of her impulse 
of shyness and maidenly modesty, it is impossible 
to say. For at that moment she heard a footstep 
on the path, and a great thrill of a feeling she did 
not understand passed through her as a voice she 
had never heard before said low in her ear : 

“ I wish you a merry Christmas.” 

With a start she turned, and put her hand into 
that of Mr. Richard, who kissed it with the fervor 
of a lover. 

“ I am afraid your Christmas is not a very merry 
one,” she said gently. They were standing in the 
full moonlight, and Mr. Richard was gazing with 
tfis usual melancholy into her face. 

‘‘No, it has not been happy,” he answered very 
slowly and with an apparent effort — “until now.” 

Then he stood for a short time in silence, and 
Chris, utterly thrown off her balance by new and 
strange feelings, did not notice or did not mind 
that he held her hand in his own with a warm 


212 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


pressure which said more than his words had 
done. 

Chris roused herself by an effort from the trance 
of pleasant feeling into which the first words she 
had ever heard him utter had thrown her. 

“ You are here by yourself !” she exclaimed. I 
thought Stelfox was with you !” 

Mr. Richard seemed to find it even more painful 
than she had done to break by speech the spell 
which the happiness of the meeting had cast upon 
him. His first answer was a heavy sigh. Then 
he said gently, with the same strange appearance 
of speaking with difficulty, as if the exercise of 
speech were an unaccustomed thing which made 
him shy and nervous : “ He is not far off. He 

did not want me to come out here to-night. But 
I begged that the day might not pass for me with- 
out one sight of you.” 

He uttered these words in such a low voice and 
so indistinctly that Chris had some difficulty in 
understanding him. Perceiving this, he became 
so painfully nervous that in repeating the words 
he was more indistinct than ever. He had scarcely 
finished saying them for the second time when 
Stelfox came with his usual noiseless footsteps 
round the angle of the house. 

He started on seeing the young lady, and without 
uttering a word made a sign to his charge which 
Chris understood to be an imperious command to 
return to the east wing. Mr. Richard was as sub- 
missive as a lamb. Taking the young lady’s hand 
for one moment in his, he only pressed it for a mo- 


LEFT OUT IN THE COLD. 


213 


merit in his own, and ivhispering in a very low 
voice ‘‘Good-bye,” disappeared rapidly toward his 
rooms, retarning by the north side of the house. 

As soon as he was out of sight, his attendant 
shook his head gravely. 

“ It’s a great risk we’re all of us running through 
my letting the young gentleman out, as I’ve done 
the last few days,” he said in a warning voice. 
“But he’s begged so hard, and he’s behaved so 
well, that I’ve done it to keep him quiet for one 
thing, for fear he’d get out without my leave, in- 
stead of with it.” 

Here was her opportunity. In a voice which 
was one of earnest entreaty Chris said : 

“ Why should he not be let out? He is not mad; 
you know he is not mad, Stelfox. You would 
never dare to let a man who was really insane go 
about as he has done the last few days. Why 
should you ever have been afraid to let him out? 
And why have you changed your mind now?” 

Stelfox looked rather alarmed by the young lady’s 
vehemence. He gave a glance round and made a 
gesture of warning, as if afraid they might be 
overheard ; but Chris went on in a reckless tone : 

“ I can’t understand you. Either this unhappy 
man is mad, in which case he certainly ought not 
to come out at all, now more than at any other 
time; or he is not mad, in which case it is very 
wicked of Mr. Bradfield to shut him up, and very 
wicked of you to be quiet about it, and very silly 
of Mr. Richard himself not to get away when he 
can.” 


214 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


‘‘Hush, ma’am, pray don’t speak so loud; you 
wouldn’t if you knew the harm you might be do- 
ing the poor gentleman by it. Mr. Richard’s mad, 
and he’s not mad, and that’s the truth. You can 
'iee for yourself there’s something wrong with him,” 
he went on, looking into the young lady’s face with 
an expression of some doubt and curiosity. “ He’s 
feasonable enough in many ways, as I told you be- 
fore. He’s as mad as a hatter in his likes and dis- 
likes. It’s b}^ his liking for you, ma’am, that I’m 
keeping him in order. But he hates Mr. Bradfield 
so much that, if I were to allow him to meet my 
master alone, I wouldn’t give sixpence for Mr. 
Bradfield’s chances of getting away from him 
alive !” 

The night air was clear and still, and keen 
with frost. The great evergreen oaks above them 
were lightly powdered with snow, which there was 
not even a breath of wind to shake off. For a mo- 
ment after Stelfox had uttered these words there 
was a dead, silent calm, which increased the dread 
roused by the man’s words in poor Chris. 

Then, from the north side of the house, there 
came suddenly, piercing their ears, a ringing cry 
of “Help! Help!” 

Then there was a crash, the sound of a heavy 
fall, and then again perfect stillness. 


AN AWKWARD QUESTION 


215 


CHAPTER XXIII. 

AN AWKWARD QUESTION. 

When the ladies left the dining-room, a spirit 
very different from the kindly geniality conven- 
tionally Supposed to belong to the Christmas sea- 
son reigned over the revels there. Alfred Marra- 
ble was, under the influence of the best dinner he 
had tasted for a long time, merry enough and to 
spare, while Donald also found happiness in French 
plums and champagne. But a spirit of mischief 
looked out of Mr. Graham-Shute’s gray eyes, while 
John Bradfield himself sat on thorns. For Mar- 
rable would take no hint to be more reserved. As 
he would have expressed his feeling, had he been 
asked, this child of misfortune was for once in a 
way enjoying himself, and he did not mean to let 
his enjoyment be interfered with. So, having got 
a sympathetic ear, as he thought, into which to pour 
his troubles, he maundered on about the old times 
to his heart’s content. For John Bradfield, who 
knew how obstinate his cousin could be and how 
maliciously bent he was on encouraging Marrable, 
dared not bring worse upon himself by active in- 
terference. 

“Yes,” murmured he with a mournful sigh, as 
Mr. Graham-Shute filled his proffered glass for 
him, “some are born lucky, and some unlucky, 
there’s no denying that. Xow to see all of us three 


216 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


together, Gilbert Wryde, our friend John there, 
and your humble servant, I don’t think anybody 
could have foretold how we were going to end. 
You might have known that Wryde would get on, 
perhaps; he was a clever fellow, with a head on 
his shoulders. But take old John and me now! 
Not that I’m saying John hasn’t got a head on his 
shoulders — he’s proved it, we’ll all admit; but he 
didn’t bear his head so bravely in those days, didn’t 
dear old John, when he was down on his luck out in 
Melbourne. Why many’s the time I’ve said to 
him, ‘Pluck up, old chap, there’ll be piping times 
for us yet!’ and the piping times have come sure 
enough, haven’t they, dear old chap?” 

As each mention of his host’s name grew more 
familiar and more affectionate than the last, the 
scowl on John Bradfield’s face grew blacker, and 
the mischievous twinkle in Mr. Qraham-Shute’s 
eyes grew more evident. Even Donald began to 
look from one to the other, and to say to himself, 
with the innocent enjoyment of sport peculiar to 
youth, that there “would be a jolly shindy pres- 
ently . ” 

The first thunder-clap came from Mr. Bradfield, 
who suggested, at an unusually early stage of the 
proceedings, an adjournment to the drawing-room. 
But the period of Alfred Marrable’s modest reti- 
cence was over, and he protested with indecorous 
loudness : 

“No, no, dear old chap, not yet! Just when 
we’re beginning to enjoy ourselves” — he was not in 
a condition to observe that this was by no means 


AN AWKWARD QUESTION. 


217 


the case of all of them — ‘Uet’s be happy while we 
can. And let’s get thoroughly warmed before we 
have to meet Old Mother Iceberg again !” added 
Marrable with a chuckle, believing himself to be 
uttering a witticism which the company would 
fully appreciate, and forgetting, poor man, the re- 
lationship in which “ Old Mother Iceberg” stood 
to two of them. 

A slight pause followed this speech ; but Marra- 
ble was too happy in the sound of his own voice 
again to remain long silent. 

‘‘Yes, as I was saying,” he pursued, shaking 
his head sagely, and wondering what it was that 
made the nuts slip through the crackers instead of 
letting themselves be cracked in the orthodox man- 
ner, “some are born lucky, and some of us aren’t. 
Here’s John with an income like a prince and 
not a chick or child to leave it to, while I’m strug- 
gling along, picking up a pound where I can, as I 
can, and with three small mouths to fill besides my 
own. By the bye, John,” and he suddenly looked 
up and spoke in a brighter tone under the influ- 
ence of a brand new idea ; “ what a precious lucky 
chap that young son of Gilbert Wryde’s is, to come 
into a big fortune like his father’s without having 
to do a stroke of work for it !” 

John Bradfield’s face grew gray at these words. 
His throat had become in a moment so dry that 
the words he tried to utter in answer or in com- 
ment would not come, but resolved themselves into 
a choking cough. Nobody noticed this, for the 
Graham-Shutes had their attention fully taken up 


218 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


with Marrable himself. So Alfred went on with 
a sentimental cheerfulness : 

“Why, that young fellow was born with a 
golden spoon in his mouth, and no mistake. Let’s 
see, he must be three or four and twenty by this 
time. Wish I could come across him! If he’s 
anything like a chip of the old block, it would be 
a good day for me if I did ! What d — d slippery 
nutcrackers these are of yours, John! Do you 
know what’s become of young Wryde, eh?” 

“ I haven’t the least idea,” answered John Brad- 
field, as, his patience worn out, he rose from the 
table. “ As his father died in Australia, I should 
think your best chance of hearing of him would be 
to prosecute your inquiries over there.” 

Alfred Marrable, who had by this time, not with- 
out a little difficulty, gained his feet, stared at his 
old friend and host with a sudden portentous grav- 
ity. His familiarity, his aflfectionateness, were 
all gone ; in their place was the solemnity of out- 
raged dignity. Supporting himself with one hand 
against the table, and nodding two or three times 
before he spoke, to prepare his friend for the awful 
change which had come over his sentiments, he 
said, in a spasmodic and tremulous voice: 

“Mr. Bradfield — I beg your pardon. I repeat,” 
said he, with another dignified pause, “ I repeat — 
I beg your pardon. If I had known, I should say 
if I had been aware that my presence in Australia 
would be considered more desirable to you than 
my presence here, I would have gone there ; I say, 
sir, I would have gone there, sooner than intrude 


AN AWKWARD QUESTION 219 

here, where I’m not wanted, where” — and he looked 
round at the Graham-Shutes, and felt a muddled 
surprise to note that they looked more amused than 
sympathetic — “Svhere it seems I am not w^anted. 
It is not too late, while a railway line runs between 
here and London, to repair my er — er — error.” 
Drawing himself up to his full height, Mr. Marra- 
ble concluded : “I wish you all, gentlemen,” here 
he paused a little for effect, with disastrous results, 
'‘I wish you all a-ver-hap-hap-new-year.” 

Unfortunately for the dignity of his exit, Alfred 
Marrable forgot that he had John Bradfield’s 
clothes on. And the appearance of his portly fig- 
ure, wdth the arms drawn back by the tight fit of 
his coat, and a series of ridges between the shoul- 
ders not intended by the tailor, was more provoca- 
tive of laughter than of indignant sorrow. 

As the unlucky Marrable left the room, an ex- 
pression of hope appeared on John Bradfield’s face, 
which became one of intense relief when, follow- 
ing his old chum into the hall, he saw that the lat- 
ter was sincere in his intention of immediately 
leaving the house in which he chose to think he 
had been insulted. Taking his overcoat, a sadly 
threadbare.garment, from the peg on which John 
Bradfield himself had hung it, Alfred buttoned 
himself up in it with great dignity, and proceeded 
down the inner and the outer hall with slow 
steps, perhaps willing to be called back. He fum- 
bled at the handle of the front-door, and finally let 
himself out into the cold night. 

Just as Mr. Bradfield was congratulating him- 


220 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


self upon having got rid of a dangerous and un^ 
trustworthy person, and wondering whether he 
should be troubled with him again, a voice close 
to his shoulder disturbed his reflections. 

It was that of his cousin, Graham -Shute, who 
had witnessed the abrupt departure of the humble 
friend, and who had been struck by the fact that 
Alfred Marrable, confused as he was, had conceived 
a just opinion of the value of his old friend’s wel- 
come. 

I say, Bradfleld, you’re not going to let the 
poor chap go off like that, are you?” 

John Bradfleld turned upon him savagely. 

“ Why not? He chose to go. I couldn’t keep 
the fool against his will, could I?” 

“ But — but — but d — n it, man, you’re not serious ! 
This fellow helped you when you were a young 
man, and you turn him out of the house like a dog, 
on a night like this !” 

John Bradfleld turned upon him sharply. 

“Helped me! Who says he helped me? The 
man’s a born fool, and never helped any one, even 
himself.” 

But Mr. Graham-Shute was already at the front- 
door. Before he had time to open it, however, 
both he and his host were startled by a loud cry, 
of “ Help ! Help !” in Marrable’s voice. 

It was John Bradfleld ’s turn to be excited. 
Pushing past his cousin, he drew back the handle 
of the front-door, and was out upon the stone steps 
in time to see the figure of a man disappearing in 
the direction of the east wing. Then he turned his 


AN AWKWARD QUESTION. 


221 


attention to Marrable, who had fallen down the 
steps and was lying motionless at the bottom. 
He was not insensible, however; for John Brad- 
field had no sooner bent over him, with a face full 
of anxiety which was not tender, than Alfred, 
struggling to sit up, said in a hoarse whisper : 

“John, I’ve seen a ghost, I swear I have: the 
ghost of Gilbert Wryde!” 

John drew back his head and affected to laugh 
boisterously ; this merriment was as much for the 
benefit of his cousin as of Alfred, for the former 
was now hurrying down the steps with ears and 
eyes very much on the alert. 

“Gilbert Wryde!” echoed Bradfield, “why, he’s 
been dead these sixteen years ; you know that as 
well as I do.” 

And he turned to his cousin with a gesture to 
intimate the tremendous extent to which his pota- 
tions had affected poor Alfred’s vision. 

But Mr. Graham-Shute had put up his double 
eye-glasses, and was examining the prostrate man 
with attentive eyes. He shook his head slowly, 
in answer to his cousin’s words. 

“He’s sober enough now,” he said briefly. 

Indeed poor Marrable had been startled into so- 
briety, compared to which that of the proverbial 
judge is levity itself. He now turned his eyes 
slowly from the spot at which he had last seen the 
vision which had startled him, and fixed them on 
John Bradfield’s face. 

“'He went round there,” he said emphatically. 
“I’m positive. I can swear it; Gilbert Wryde.” 


222 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


John Bradfield felt that his teeth were chatter- 
ing. He could scarcely command his voice to an- 
swer in his usual tones ; 

“One of the gardeners, most likely.” 

Marrable shook his head emphatically. 

“ It was not one of the gardeners,” he said, with 
a great deal more decision than he usually showed. 
“I won’t trouble you again, John, but I will find 
out what I want to know before I leave this 
place.” 

He was trying to rise, and Mr. Graham-Shute 
helped him. But he could only move with diffi- 
culty, having sprained his left ankle in his fall. 

“ Here, Bradfield, send some of your men to take 
him indoors,” said Mr. Graham-Shute in a peremp- 
tory manner. 

“Of course, of course,” assented John Bradfield. 

And he gave the necessary orders to two men 
servants, who had by this time appeared in the 
doorway. 

So Alfred Marrable, protesting all the time with 
more than his usual vigor, was carried indoors, 
and placed, by John Bradfield ’s orders, in a spare 
room which was next to his own bedroom. Then 
with much reluctance, and more by his cousin’s 
orders than by his own, John Bradfield sent for a 
doctor. 

In the mean time John Bradfield suddenly de- 
veloped as much solicitude for his unluck}" friend 
as he had previously shown neglect. He insisted 
on remaining himself by the side of the injured man 
until the arrival of the doctor, and, for fear of ex- 


AN AWKWARD QUESTION 


223 


citing him, as he said, he would allow no one to 
enter the room but himself. 

When Stelfox knocked at the bedroom door and 
in his extremely quiet and respectful manner 
offered his services to wait on the gentleman, John 
Bradfield answered him very shortly indeed, with 
a scowl upon his face : 

“ No, I don’t want you. And you would be bet- 
ter employed in looking after that lunatic of yours, 
and in keeping him from frightening people half 
out of their wits, than in attending to other folks’ 
business.” 

Stelfox listened to this rebuke in meek silence, 
with his eyes upon the ground. When his master 
had finished speaking, he respectfully retired with- 
out a word either of protest or of excuse. 

John Bradfield watched him retreat with a ma- 
lignant expression of face. He had serious cause 
of dissatisfaction with Stelfox, but he was not sure 
whether it would be wise in him to show it, for 
John Bradfield felt that he was standing on a vol- 
cano, and that an eruption might be imminent any 
minute. He was just forming in his mind the 
resolution to keep Marrable and the astute Stelfox 
apart when he heard a noise behind him, and 
turning, found that Marrable had got off the bed 
on which he had been placed, and in spite of the 
pain his ankle gave him was dragging himself 
along by the help of the furniture toward the door. 

“What are you doing? Where are you coming 
to?” asked John sharply, as he sprang toward the 
injured man to help him back to the bed. “You 


224 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


mustn’t move until the doctor has seen you; we’ve 
sent for him, and he will be here in a few min- 
utes.” 

There was nothing about which John Bradfield 
was more anxious than the prevention of a meeting 
between Marrable and Stelfox, whom he strongly 
suspected of an unwholesome curiosity. But the 
injured man was excited and obstinate, and he 
almost forgot the pain his ankle was causing him 
as he clung to John Bradfield ’s arm and whispered 
hoarsely : 

‘‘ What was that he said about a lunatic? Let 
me speak to the man, John; let me speak to him ! 
I must get to the root of this, or I shall go mad 
myself !” 

John Bradfield saw that the man was thoroughly 
frightened, and within an ace of becoming noisy 
in his vehement questionings. So he said that 
if Alfred would be quiet, and allow himself to be 
helped back onto the bed, he should learn all about 
it. 

“ What I want to know is,” said Marrable, stick- 
ing to his point when his host showed anew a dis- 
position to dally with his promised explanation, 
“ who the man was that I saw, and who the lu- 
natic is you spoke about, and where he lives.” 

“The lunatic is the man you saw,” answered 
John Bradfield doggedly, when he could fence no 
longer. “ I took him in myself out of charity, 
and he lives under my roof.” 

“ But how does he come to be the image of Gil- 
bert Wryde?” persisted Marrable. 


AN AWKWARD QUESTION. 225 

“How should I know? It’s a chance resem- 
blance, that’s all. It was on account of that like- 
ness that I was attracted to him, and took pity on 
him, and brought him into my own house,” added 
Bradfield with a happy thought. 

Alfred Marrable had become, under the influ- 
ence of his feeling of resentment against Bradfleld, 
as obstinate as he usually was yielding. He raised 
himself once more from his bed. 

“Let me see him,” he said sullenly. 

And as Bradfleld tried to soothe him, he called 
out all the more loudly: “Let me see him, John. 
I will see him.” 

So that at last John, fearing that by the time 
the doctor arrived Marrable would be beyond con- 
trol altogether, and hearing the footsteps of the 
curious servant in the corridor outside, made a vir- 
tue of necessity. 

“Be quiet,” said he between his clenched teeth. 
“Be quiet, can’t you? And listen to me. The 
man you saw is a dangerous madman, and he is 
Gilbert Wryde’s son.” 

Marrable sank down on the bed, trembling as if 
with severe cold. 

“Gilbert Wryde’s son — a lunatic!” he repeated 
in horror. “ It is too awful; it can’t be true!” 

Now that he had shot his bolt, John Bradfleld 
was calmer in manner and able to assume an ap- 
pearance almost of indifference to the ejaculations 
and comments of the other. 

“ If you don’t believe it, you can easily see for 
yourself,” he said shortly. “As soon as you can 
15 


226 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


move about, you shall be shut up with him alone 
for an hour if you like.” 

But Marrable sat in a heap, with staring eyes 
and with his teeth chattering, muttering to him- 
self at intervals: ‘‘Gilbert Wryde’s son a lunatic! 
Gilbert Wryde’s son!” 

And then the man, who was soft-hearted, and 
who remembered how Gilbert Wryde had be- 
friended him years ago, broke down and sobbed, 
while Bradfield moved restlessly about the room, 
waiting for the doctor. 

When the medical man arrived, he pronounced 
the injury to be of a comparatively slight nature, 
and told the patient that he might with care be 
able to get about again in a fortnight or three 
weeks. 

“But,” he added, looking from one man to the 
other inquiringly, and perceiving that both were 
in a state of high excitement, “ you will have to 
keep very quiet if you wish to be cured so soon.” 

John Bradfield went as far as the end of the cor- 
ridor with the doctor, and then returned to the pa- 
tient, whom he found resting on his elbow, with 
an inquiry ready on his lips. And John “shied,” 
so to speak, at the expression of Marrable’s light 
gray eyes. 

“Bradfield,” said he in a husky whisper, “I 
want to ask you something. If the poor chap 
you’ve got shut up for a lunatic is Gilbert Wryde’s 
son, what has become of Gilbert Wryde’s money?” 


A LUNATIC'S LETTER. 


227 


CHAPTER XXIV. 

A lunatic’s letter. 

John Bradfield was equal to the occasion. 
Turning so that he faced Marrable, he answered 
at once : 

“ Gilbert Wryde’s money ! Oh, he left it in the 
hands of trustees, of course.” 

There was a pause, and John turned away, as 
if feeling that he had satisfied his companion’s 
thirst for information. But presently Marrable 
spoke again, and his manner was somewhat lack- 
ing in that respect for the rich man which had 
characterized it on his first arrival : 

“You’re one of the trustees, I suppose?” 

John Bradfield, very unused of late years to be- 
ing spoken to in this way, answered curtly enough : 

“Yes, I’m one of them. Anything more you 
want to know?” 

“Only this: who are the others?” 

“Men you’ve never heard of — old chums of 
Wryde’s.” 

“ Do they live in England?” 

“Xo, out in Australia.” 

“ Oh!” 

This exclamation might be taken as signifying 
assent, and it was thus that John Bradfield chose 
to take it; and the subject was dropped out of 
their talk, if not out of their minds. 

The assiduity with which John Bradfield tended 


228 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


his old friend was wonderful. It was remarked 
that he scarcely let anybody else go near him ; that 
he slept in Marrable’s room, and even served him 
with his own hands. It escaped remark that on 
the rare occasions when John Bradfield did leave 
the apartment of his friend, he took care first to 
send Stelfox out on some errand which would take 
a considerable time to execute. 

Mr. Bradfield’s doubts of Stelfox’s trustworthi- 
ness were increasing. Taking the bull by the 
horns, as his custom was when hard-pressed, Mr. 
Bradfield took the servant severely to task for suf- 
fering Mr. Richard to get loose again ; and ended 
by threatening him with instant dismissal if it 
should occur again. 

At this Stelfox looked up : 

“Do you mean that, sir?” 

“Ido, indeed.” 

“ And what, sir, would you do with Mr. Richard 
if 5^ou did send me away?” 

There was some spirit in the servant’s question : 
there was more in the master’s answer: 

“That’s my business.” 

And Stelfox, with a glance at his master’s res- 
olute face, made submission. 

The day following the accident being Boxing 
Day, Mrs. Graham-Shute asked and obtained per- 
mission from her host to extend her visit and that 
of her family until the day after. It was impos- 
sible to go out, much less to travel, on such a day 
as that, she said. 

In spite of this impossibility, however, Mrs. 


A LUNATIONS LETTER, 


229 


Graham- Shute stayed out nearly the whole of the 
morning, looking for a suitable house in which 
she could settle with her family, to fulfil her kind 
promise of “ looking after dear cousin John.” Of 
course it was the worst day she could have chosen 
for her expedition, as the agents’ offices were closed 
and the care-takers were making holiday. But 
being a woman of great valor and determination 
just when these qualities were unnecessary and in- 
convenient, she ferreted out the unhappy agents 
and made them unlock their books for her benefit, 
and she chivied the care-takers away from their 
dinners to attend her over the empty houses, only 
to declare at the end of the day’s work that she 
had never met such an uncivil set of people in her 
life, never! 

Mrs. Graham-Shute found, moreover, cause of 
bitter complaint in other directions. The rents 
were absurdly high, for one thing; she had im- 
agined that in a hole of a place like this you would 
be able to pick up a house, with thirteen rooms 
and a nice garden, for next to nothing. Indeed, to 
hear her talk, one would have imagined that she 
looked upon the honor done to a dwelling by her 
residence within its walls as an equivalent to rent 
and taxes. The poor lady was quite hurt at the 
local ingratitude. It was enough, as she said at 
luncheon time to the amusement of dear Cousin 
John, to make one stay in town. 

“ Why on earth don’t you, my dear?” murmured 
her husband, who had strenuously opposed the pro- 
posed flight to this clubless and remote region, and 


230 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


who knew very well that love of change had as 
much to do with his wife’s determination to move 
as the belief that she would be a great person 
down here; while in town it had been forced upon 
her that she was only a very small one indeed. 

His wife looked at him reproachfully. 

My dear, you know as well as possible that we 
must economize for the sake of the children,” she 
said with a sigh, and a glance at her cousin, as if 
sure that he would approve her sentiments. 

It was fashionable to economize, so Mrs. Gra- 
ham-Shute was always talking about it; and there 
it ended. Her husband had suffered from this 
idiosyncrasy, and he went on in an aggrieved tone : 

“ Why can’t you begin at Bayswater, and save 
moving expenses? Everything’s cheaper in town 
than here, and you’ve something to talk about be- 
sides the health of the pigs.” 

But Maude went breezily on : 

Ah, but in town you’re tempted to buy things; 
my feminine heart can’t resist a bargain. Now 
here,” she ended triumphantly, ‘‘you can’t spend 
money, because there’s nothing to buy !” 

Here John Bradfield struck into the conversa- 
tion. 

“ Isn’t there, though? There are bargains to be 
had here as well as in town, as I’ve found to my 
cost !” 

Maude smiled at this remark, having only 
frowned at her husband’s. And of course she re- 
mained unconvinced. 

Mrs. Graham-Shute spent her own and her 


A LUNATIONS LETTER. 


231 


daughters’ afternoon in making a list of the houses 
they had seen, with their several defects and good 
qualities. The former consisted not in imperfect 
drainage and “ stuffy” bedrooms, but in reception- 
rooms” too small for the entertainments by which 
she proposed to dazzle the neighborhood. 

Meanwhile Donald, left to his own devices, tried 
hard to contrive an interview with Chris, who 
had, during the last day or two, avoided him with 
a persistency which nettled him exceedingly. Dur- 
ing the last conversation he had had with her she 
had reproaclied him with following her about at 
the suggestion of his mother. While greatly an- 
noyed and offended by her perspicacity, it had not 
made him less anxious for the flirtation he had prom- 
ised himself with such an “awfully pretty girl.” 
This being the last day of his stay at Wyngham 
Lodge, he felt that he must come to such an under- 
standing with her as would pave the way for a 
welcome from her when he and his family should 
return to Wyngham for a permanent residence. 

When, therefore, Donald saw Chris walking in 
the garden, he put on his hat and sauntered out 
there too. It was on the south side of the house 
that Chris was walking, and she appeared to be 
looking at nothing but the sea. A s she drew near 
the east wing, however, she glanced up from time 
to time shyly at the windows. On hearing foot- 
steps on the path behind her, she turned quickly, 
and flushed, with an unmistakable expression of 
disappointment, on coming face to face with Don- 
ald. He was taken aback ; his vanity was wounded, 


232 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


and instead of addressing her as he had intended, 
he stepped aside for her to pass him, and followed 
the path she had been taking toward the east end 
of the house. Angry and mortified, he went on as 
far as the inclosed portion of the grounds. And 
here, lying on the ground just within the locked 
gate, he saw an envelope lying on the damp grass. 
Stooping and putting his hand through the wire 
fence, he found that the envelope was just within 
his reach. Drawing it through, he discovered that 
it contained a letter, that it was directed to “ Miss 
Christina Abercarne,” and that it was too dry to 
have lain there long. 

While he was turning the missive over in his 
hand, and looking about him, considering from 
what quarter the letter could have come, Chris bore 
down upon him with a crimson face and very 
bright eyes. 

‘‘That note is forme, is it not?” said she, as 
she managed to see the superscription. 

Now Donald was not particularly chivalrous, 
and he thought it quite fair that he should find 
some advantage to himself in his discovery. So 
he said, holding the letter behind him : 

“ What are you going to give me not to tell?” 

Chris drew herself up haughtily : 

“ I am not going to give you anything, Mr. 
Shute. But you have to give me my letter.” 

“And you won’t mind if I repeat this little anec- 
dote, say, at the dinner- table to-night?” 

“Not a bit. And you, I dare say, won’t mind 
what I shall think of you.” 


A LUNATIONS LETTER. 


233 


It was bis turn to blush now. He stammered 
out that of course he was only in fun, and he handed 
her the letter in the most sheepish and shame-faced 
manner. Although she took it from him very 
coolly, to all appearance, a strange thrill went 
through her as she held it, and knew, unfamiliar 
as the handwriting was, from whom it came. 

Donald stared at her. For there had flashed 
over her face a strange look, half -gladness, half- 
sorrow, and he felt with jealousy that some other 
man had roused in her the feeling he would have 
liked her to have had for himself. For a moment 
she seemed hardly conscious that she was not alone ; 
then recovering herself quickly, she remembered 
that this wretched youth had the power, if he liked, 
to increase the misfortunes of a man who was un- 
lucky enough already. So she said, catching her 
breath, and speaking with a most eloquent mois- 
ture in her eyes, and with a tremor in her voice 
which few male creatures could have resisted : 

“Of course — I believe you, I believe what you 
said — that you were only in fun. You would not 
care to bring real misery upon anybody, would you ?” 

Donald was touched, and he reddened, under 
the influence of a kindly emotion, even more deeply 
than he had done with anger. “You may trust 
me,” was all he said. 

Christina held out her hand, taking it away 
again, however, before he had time to do more than 
hold it for a half-second in his. 

“Thank you — very much,” said she, as she hur- 
ried away. 


284 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


CHAPTER XXV. 

AN APPEAL. 

Chris walked as long as she could be seen by 
Donald ; but as soon as she was out of his sight, 
she ran into the house, up the stairs, never tak- 
ing breath until she had shut herself into the dress- 
ing-room and turned the key in the lock. Then 
she took out the precious letter, her eyes so dim 
that at first she could scarcely read it. When at 
last she had conquered her agitation sufficiently to 
do so, she read the following words, written in a 
bold, clear hand: 

“You must forgive,” so it began without any 
heading, “ all that is strange, all that is wrong in 
this letter, for it is the first I have ever written. 
If my words are like those of a savage, you must 
forgive that too, for it is not my fault. I have 
lived alone for years that I cannot count, but it is 
nearly all my life, ever since my father died. I 
have been miserable enough, and yet I never knew 
what misery was until I saw you. Neither have 
I ever known what joy was until I looked into your 
eyes, and touched your hand. You have opened 
the world to me. You have woke me out of a long 
sleep. You have given me heart and courage ; you 
have saved me from becoming what they pretend 
that I already am. I had thought myself an out- 
cast from all the world ; long ago I had forgotten 
what hope was, when you came here like a ray of 
sunshine, and changed the whole face of the world 
for me. I scarcely know how to go on. I am 


AN APPEAL. 


235 


afraid to offend yon, afraid that you will not be- 
lieve what I say. But you are kind, you are good, 
and as I cannot see you again, I must write. I 
ask you just this one thing; it is a favor I think 
you will not refuse. Come into the inclosed gar- 
den under my window every day, at any time, if 
only for five minutes, and let me see you. I know 
the gates are kept locked, but you will be able to 
do this if you will, for if you ask for the key you 
will get it, as nobody could resist you. 

“ One more thing I beg you to do. Be silent about 
me to the man who keeps me here. If you inter- 
cede for me, you will only do me harm. I don’t 
know myself why he keeps me here ; he has never 
even let me know my own name. I know, as 
you know, that I am cursed with an infirmity 
which condemns me to a solitary life ; but I ask 
you to judge whether it was necessary to treat me 
as I have been treated. I know he pretends that 
I am dangerous; and he has just this excuse, that 
as far as he is concerned, he has made me so. But 
I will not write to you of him. The time for me 
to call him to account is nearer than he thinks. 

If I see yoi> in the garden to-morrow I shall 
know that you have found my letter, and that you 
forgive me. Dick.” 

Chris had been interested in Mr. Richard. She 
had known of this interest, which had seemed to 
be occasioned by pity only. Now that she held 
his letter in her hands and pressed it against her 
lips she knew more than this; she knew that the 
feeling she had for the forlorn recluse was some- 
thing deeper, more tender than pity; she knew 
that she loved him. 

When she went downstairs to dinner her face 
seemed transfigured ; her fresh beauty had never 


336 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


been so brilliant. All eyes were attracted by the 
delicate color in her cheeks, by the brightness of 
her eyes ; and Donald, who guessed the cause for 
this unusual radiance, was jealous and sullen 
throughout the meal. The next day was that of 
the Graham-Shutes’ departure. The fair Maude 
thought it only right to advise her dear cousin 
John before she went to be on his guard against 
the Abercarnes, as they were very designing 
people. Dear cousin John retorted with a bomb- 
shell. 

“ I hope, my dear Maude,” said he coolly, “that 
one of them will no longer be an Abercarne by the 
time I see you again.” 

Crestfallen the poor lady pretended not to un- 
derstand. So John remorselessly explained : 

“ Why, I hope to make Christina Mrs. John 
Bradfield before many weeks are over.” 

Poor Mrs. Graham- Shu te drew a long breath. 
At last she said : 

“ Whatever you do, of course you have my best 
wishes for your happiness. But — but — lucky as you 
are, John,” she ended with spiteful emphasis, “I 
wouldn’t tempt Providence too far, if I were you !” 

To which dear John answered by a roar of de- 
risive laughter which made Maude say to her hus- 
band, as they drove away, that, under the influ- 
ence of those two harpies, John’s manners were 
deteriorating greatly. 

John Bradfleld went back into the house quickly 
after seeing his cousins off ; he ran upstairs, and 
was in time to catch sight of Stelfox hovering 


AN APPEAL. 


237 


about the doorway of the injured Marrable. John’s 
expression grew threatening. There was danger, 
danger too great to be tolerated in the meeting of 
these two men. Each of the two possessed the 
links which the other lacked in a chain of facts 
which, if known, would be John Bradfield’s ruin. 
With a black frown on his face the master of the 
house opened the door of the sick-room quietly, 
and walked to the bedside. Poor Marrable had 
begged to get up that day, having indeed been quite 
well enough to do so. But John had insisted on his 
remaining in bed, apparently out of solicitude for 
his friend, but really in order that he might the more 
easily keep him under his own eye. Alfred ap- 
peared to be asleep. John Bradfield glared at him 
ferociously. With this man was the key to John’s 
fate. The knowledge he held of the past life of 
his old chum w^as shared by nobody else on this 
side of the ocean. With these thoughts passing 
through his mind, John Bradfield, almost invol- 
untarily, began to lift up, one by one, the various 
bottles, some containing medicines and some lotions 
for outward application, which stood upon the table. 

Suddenly Alfred sprang up in bed, and stared 
at him with feverish eyes. 

“There, there, there!” he cried, as if fear and 
indignation had deprived him of words. “ Do you 
want to poison me? I believe you do. I can’t 
make you out, John. I’m afraid of you. You’re 
not the same man I used to know, and I’ll not stay 
under your roof another night! I tell you I’m 
afraid of you.” 


238 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Remonstrance was useless, but indeed his host 
did not press him very much to stay; his chief 
wish now was to get his guest out of the house be- 
fore Stelfox could learn his intention to go. In 
this he succeeded. Ordering the landau to be 
brought round, he himself helped Marrable down- 
stairs, accompanied him to the station, reserved 
a first-class compartment for him, and made 
him as comfortable as he could with rugs and 
wraps. Then he looked in at the carriage- 
window and spoke to him in tones to which 
joy at his departure lent an appearance of real 
warmth. 

“My dear fellow,” he said, “I am afraid ours 
has been an unlucky meeting after all these years. 
But I’ve been worried lately; I’m not myself at 
all. But I’m not one to forget my old friends, and 
so you’ll find when you get back to town, if you’ll 
open this,” and he handed Marrable a large en- 
velope sealed with red wax. “Just send me your 
address when you get home, and let me know 
whenever you change it. And every quarter you 
shall have a similar little packet from me as long 
as you need it, for auld lang syne. And a happy 
New Year to you, old man.” 

So saying, John Bradfield wrung his friend’s 
hand with a heartiness which soothed Marrable’s 
wounded feelings, and even went far, for the mo- 
ment at least, toward deceiving him as to his 
friend’s real sentiments. 

John Bradfield went home with a lighter heart. 
Here was one danger got over for the present at 


AN APPEAL. 


239 


least; there remained one other to be grappled 
with; that other was — Stelfox. 

There could be little doubt that the man-servant 
had of late formed some sort of league against his 
master with that master’s victim, and Mr. Brad- 
field was anxious to know the exact terms of the 
compact. On reaching home, therefore, he con- 
descended to play the spy, and with this object 
watched his opportunity, and when Stelfox un- 
locked the door of Mr. Richard’s apartments and 
went in, Mr. Bradfield followed him, entering by 
means of a duplicate key of his own. 

Between the outer door by which he had just 
passed in and the door of Mr. Richard’s sitting- 
room there was a passage, very dark and very 
narrow, being lighted only by a little square win- 
dow in the centre of the inner door, which had 
been made for secret observation, by Mr. Brad- 
field’s order, of the lunatic’s movements. 

Mr. Bradfield was advancing with cautious steps 
toward this window, when he suddenly paused, 
struck motionless with terror. And yet he could 
see nothing ; he could not even distinctly hear the 
words that were being exchanged in the room. 
All that he knew, in fact, was that he heard two 
voices in conversation. After a few moments of 
absolute stillness and hideous terror, he moved spas- 
modically forward to the inner door and looked 
through the little square window. All that he saw 
was Mr. Richard, seated at the table, talking to 
Stelfox, who stood respectfully before him. 

Mr. Bradfield drew a long, gasping breath, and 


240 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


made his way, stumbling at every other step, back 
through the passage on to the landing at the head 
of the staircase outside. There he made one step 
in the direction of the stairs, staggered, and fell 
down, gasping, unconscious, digging his nails into 
the flesh of his hands. 


CHAPTER XXVI. 

A SECRET CORRESPONDENCE. 

A BEAUTIFUL peace had descended upon Wyng- 
ham House on the departure of the Graham-Shutes. 
There was no more scurrying up and down stairs 
on unimportant errands; no more conversations 
carried on at opposite ends of the house. Mrs. 
Abercarne rejoiced articulately in the change; but 
to Chris the satisfaction brought by the change 
was tempered by many things. 

For one thing, the girl was troubled by the con- 
sciousness that she was not acting quite openly, 
and by a fear of what the consequences would be 
if she were to do so. Her first meetings with Mr. 
Richard she had concealed from her mother for a 
perfectly good and honest reason — the fear of giv- 
ing Mrs. Abercarne unnecessary alarm. Later, 
when she had begun to feel sure that Mr. Richard 
was not so mad as was supposed, Chris had thought 


A SECRET CORRESPONDENCE. 


241 


it a pity to worry her mother with her story, while 
Mrs. Abercarne spent her days in a tempest of ir- 
ritation against her declared enemy, Mrs. Graham- 
Shiite. 

But now these excuses for reticence had disap- 
peared, and still she hesitated to confide in her 
mother. For her confidence, if it was to be in any 
way genuine or whole-hearted, must now be in the 
nature of a confession. She did not try to cheat 
herself into the belief that she had no deeply per- 
sonal interest in the occupant of the east wing ; in- 
deed, all her thoughts were occupied in won- 
dering why he was kept there, and in devising 
schemes for releasing him from his unhappy posi- 
tion. Certain words he had used in his letter had 
struck her to the heart. He had mentioned the 
infirmity she must have noticed; so that Chris, 
even in spite of herself, was obliged to admit that 
her lover, although not insane, for that she refused 
to believe, suffered from sudden lapses of memory 
or of consciousness which would certainly make 
him, in her mother’s eyes, a most ineligible per- 
son,” while his eccentric habit of silence would 
increase this impression. For Mrs. Abercarne 
would not be ready, as Chris was, to explain these 
things tenderly away, and account for them by his 
long and enforced seclusion. 

So that Chris seemed rather depressed than ex- 
hilarated by the departure of the noisy relations, 
whose presence had made it easier for her to hide 
her secret troubles from her mother. 

Mr. Bradfield also suffered from the departure 
16 


242 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


of his guests; at least, that was the inference Mrs. 
Abercarne drew, with some asperity, from his 
gloomy looks. But in truth, although the sudden 
change from excessive noise to excessive tranquil- 
lity proved trying to his nerves, the causes of Mr. 
Bradfield’s uneasiness had a much deeper root than 
this. 

He was brooding over the consciousness of a 
crime, which would not have troubled him in the 
least, but for the fear he now entertained that he 
would be found out. 

Now John Bradfield’s roughness and abruptness 
of manner was not accompanied with as much en- 
ergy of character as might have been supposed. 
Nor was he a man possessed of much fertility of 
invention or resource. Therefore, although con- 
scious that the cunning Stelfox was in possession 
of certain knowledge which he had concealed from 
his master, John Brad field vacillated between 
two courses: the one was to come to an under- 
standing with the servant ; the other was to let 
things go on for a while and await fresh develop- 
ments before embarking on a hazardous course of 
action. 

He decided on the latter course. 

In the mean while Chris had felt bound to an- 
swer Mr. Richard’s letter. She had not dared to 
confide even in Stelfox, partly because he was too 
reticent, and partly from a delicacy in letting the 
man know of her secret correspondence with his 
charge. It was with a fast-beating heart that she, 
after watching for her opportunity, slipped under 


A SECRET CORRESPONDENCE. 


243 


the locked door of the east wing the following an- 
swer to Mr. Richard’s letter: 

“ I received your letter. I must tell you first 
that I have never before received a letter without 
showing it to my mother, at least, since I was a 
little girl, when I had lots of letters with toffee and 
flowers from my boy sweethearts, which I did not 
show because my mother would have made me 
give up the toffee. I do not like writing now with- 
out telling her about it, and yet, on the other hand, 

I cannot bear to leave your note unanswered. So 
please do not write to me again — at least, unless 
you have something very, very particular to say 
about anything, for instance, in which I can help 
you. I am very much troubled by what you say 
about the person you mentioned. I cannot believe 
that person guilty of the deliberate cruelty and 
wickedness you suggest. iVon’t you let me speak? 
It would be better, believe me. I know that I am 
not a proper person to give advice to anybody ; I 
am supposed to be too silly to be capable of such a 
thing. But if I were a person of more authority, 
who would be listened to, I would say : ‘Go to that 
person and ask that person to tell you about your- 
self ; and insist upon knowing. ’ Then I believe 
that person would have to give way. 

And now please remember that you are not to ^ 
write to me, because it puts me into a great diffi- 
culty when you do. For on the one hand I cannot 
bear not to answer, when you are so lonely ; and 
on the other hand, I can’t bear to do anything un- 
derhand, that I can’t tell my mother about. It 
makes me feel quite wicked. And yet, if I did 
tell her, I know she would tell a certain person, or 
else she would insist upon our going away, and 
there would be dreadful scenes. 

“ I know this is a dreadfully stupid letter, and I 


244 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


am almost ashamed to send it; if I do, I shall post 
it under the door. But please, please believe that 
I am very sorry about it all, and that I do hope 
you will take the advice I should like to give you 
if I dared. 

“Yours 

(She debated within herself for a long time how 
she should end, without being too forward, too 
formal, too affectionate, or too cold) — “sincerely, 
“Chris Abercarne.” 

“ I can’t put ‘Christina;’ it’s simply too horrid,” 
she said to herself as she looked sideways at the 
letter. “It’s a dreadfully bad letter, just such a 
letter as Miss Smithson used to say a lady ought 
not to write, full of ‘that person,’ and ‘can’t’ in- 
stead of ‘cannot.’ And it gets worse instead of 
better as it goes on! However, I don’t think there 
are any sentences without heads or tails; and if 
there are — why, he shouldn’t write to a girl if he 
expects grammar! I think,” she went on, a little 
blush rising to her face as the thought came into 
her mind, “ that I may give it just one to help it 
on its way.” 

And, laughing to herself, she pressed the letter 
to her pretty red lips. 

Now if Chris had been a really conscientious 
and strong-minded girl, instead of the perfect fool 
her kind friends declared her to be, she would have 
been quite satisfied with having put an end to her 
correspondence with Mr. Richard, and would have 
been shocked at the idea of his wishing to carry it 
on. It is sad, therefore, to be obliged to relate 
that she cast an anxious look every morning, while 


A SECRET CORRESPONDENCE. 


245 


taking the walk in the inclosed garden as he had 
begged her to do (for Johnson proved delightfully 
corruptible), she cast an inquiring glance toward 
the spot where she had found Mr. Richard’s first 
letter. 

And, all things considered, it is not surprising 
that before long she found a second. 

She had given him fresh hope, fresh courage, 
he said. But again he begged her to say nothing 
on his behalf to anybody, assuring her that before 
very long he hoped to be able to act upon her ad- 
vice, for which he thanked her most gratefully. 

And then, after a day or two, during which she 
contented herself with glancing shyly up at his 
windows, at one of which he was always to be seen 
watching her with very eloquent eyes, it began to 
seem rather cruel not to let him have just a few 
lines to assure him that she had received his let- 
ter. So another kind little missive got posted 
under the door of the east wing. And though she 
begged again that he would not write to her, there 
was something about the injunction which made 
it read to the young man like an invitation. And 
so with many qualms of conscience, on the one side 
at least, an intermittent correspondence went on, 
which became the happiness and the misery of the 
girl’s life. 

In the mean time John Bradfield laid siege to the 
girl’s affections with a good deal of tact, inflicting 
upon her very little of his society, but anticipating 
her wishes in every possible way, until she found 
that he had gradually become the fountain-head of 


246 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


a great many pleasures which she would never 
have known but for him. She could not mention 
a book that she would like to read, a flower she 
was fond of, or a composer whose works she would 
like to study without finding, in the course of the 
next few days, book, plant or music lying about as 
if it had found its way into her presence by magic. 
These attentions made Chris uncomfortable and 
Mrs. Abercarne very happy. The latter thought 
it wiser to say nothing, and was deceived by her 
daughter’s manner. For Chris, grateful on the 
one hand for Mr. Bradfield’s kindness to herself, 
and anxious on the other to pave the way for coax- 
ing him to do justice to his ward, acquired toward 
the master of the house a manner full of a sort of 
pleading diffidence, so that both her mother and 
Mr. Bradfleld believed that the charm was begin- 
ning to work. 


CHAPTER XXVII. 

A HOUSE-WARMING. 

It was about six weeks after Christmas when 
Mrs. Graham-Shute again descended upon Wyng- 
ham, not for mere invasion, but with a view to set- 
tle in the conquered country. 

By the luckiest chance in the world (so she 
said), there was by this time a house to be let ab- 
solutely within sight of Wyngham House. It 


A HOUSE-WARMING. 


247 


was an ugly, brand-new dwelling, built of yellow 
brick, standing in a very small scrap of immature 
garden on the west side of Wyngham House, and 
therefore a little way further from the town than 
Mr. Bradfield’s residence. It had been built by the 
local poet, a gentleman who turned out a large 
amount of verse, mostly very bad and always very 
dull, some of which occasionally found its way into 
the dullest and heaviest of the old-established mag- 
azines. Overweighted by the burden of his own 
celebrity (at least this was the construction put 
upon his action by the neighbors), he had built a 
high wall round his house and tiny garden, to 
shield himself from the public gaze, although no- 
body wanted to look at him. Then, suddenly tir- 
ing of his dwelling when he had finished spoiling 
it, he put up a board announcing that it was to let, 
just in time for it to be pounced upon by the fair 
Maude, who was charmed with the dignified se- 
clusion offered by the high wall and by its near 
neighborhood to “ dear cousin John.” Furthermore, 
the house had what she described as a magnifi- 
cent entrance,” which meant that a great deal of 
the space which ought to have been utilized in en- 
larging the poor little dining-room was wasted on 
a big, draughty hall, in which the four winds 
found a charming play-ground from which to dis- 
tribute themselves up and down and around into 
every corner of the house. There was also a good- 
sized drawing-room, which was to be the scene of 
certain functions which were to bring a breath of 
Bays water into benighted Wyngham. 


248 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Long before the harmless necessary plumber was 
out of the house, long before the carpets were down 
or the new papers were dry, Mrs. Graham-Shute 
had resolved upon most of the details of a house- 
warming which was to be remembered as an epoch 
in the local annals. In honor of the occasion Lil- 
ith had fortunately discovered a talent for dramat- 
ic authorship, and had fashioned a play which was 
to be the chief feature of the evening’s enter- 
tainment. Having got as far as this, Mrs. Gra- 
ham-Shute, long before the moving was accom- 
plished, proceeded to send out invitations to all 
those people whose acquaintance she had made, or 
had not made, as the case might be, during her 
week’s stay at dear cousin John’s. The next thing 
to be done was to call upon the editor of “ The 
Wyngham Observer (with which is incorporated 
The Little Wosham TiinesY^ to ask him to insert 
under the heading of A Distinguished Arrival” 
an account of the proposed function which she 
had thoughtfully written out beforehand. But the 
editor had, as she afterward expressed it, “ no en- 
terprise, no manners, no anything,” for he mildly 
informed the lady that if he inserted her contribu- 
tion, it must be paid for as an advertisement. 

Then began the first of the poor lady’s difficul- 
ties. Of course, she sent an invitation to dear 
cousin John. Equally of course she sent none to 
the housekeeper or the housekeeper’s daughter. 
Then she received a blunt note from Mr. Bradfield, 
informing her that unless Mrs. and Miss Abercarne 
came too, he shouldn’t come. Remonstrances fol- 


A HOUSU-WAmilNO. 


249 


lowed, but were unavailing; then Mrs. Graham- 
Shute made a feeble stand ; but the thought of what 
life would be at Wyngham without the countenance 
of the great man prevailed, and Mrs. and Miss 
Abercarne got their invitation, which Mr. Brad- 
field then put pressure on them to accept. 

What a frantic state of excitement pervaded 
“The Cottage” on the day of the “function!” 
What skirmishes there were among the perform- 
ers! What rushes into the town on the part of 
the younger members of the family for a pound of 
sweet biscuits, a packet of candles, sixpenny worth 
of daffodils, and two syphons of lemonade ! Not 
to speak of a running stream of messengers to 
cousin John’s, with pressing requests for the loan 
of a dozen chairs, a bottle of whiskey, and a tea- 
tray! As Mrs. Graham-Shute feelingly said: “It 
was quite lucky, as it happened, those wretched 
Abercarnes had been invited, you know!” 

And so, indeed, it was. 

But when at last the evening came, Mrs. Gra- 
ham-Shute felt that her exertions had indeed met 
with their reward. For there was not an availa- 
ble space sufficient for the accommodation of one 
person which did not hold two. This was the very 
height of enjoyment to the good lady, who re- 
ceived each guest with a fixed galvanic smile, and 
said she was “ so delighted that you could come, 
you know,” the while she looked over the shoulder 
of the guest whose hand she held, too obviously 
occupied in counting the number of people who 
pressed in behind. It was indeed, as she after- 


250 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


ward said, a most successful function — number 
of guests, eighty, seats for thirty-five, sandwiches 
for five-and-twenty, tea for all those enterprising 
and muscular enough to make their way into the 
dining-room, where Rose, feeble and frightened, 
drifted round the tea-table rather than presided at 
it. 

There was some delay before the entertainment 
of the evening began ; this is inevitable when you 
have to wait until the last guest has passed safely 
in before you can set your stage. By the bye, 
there was no stage proper, a space being railed off 
merely from the hall-door to about half-way up the 
hall. So that it was exceedingly disconcerting 
when the two Misses Blake, elderly and slow both 
of movement and understanding, knocked at the 
door at the most thrilling moment of the drama, 
and had to be let in right between the villain and 
the lady he was trying to murder. To avoid a 
second contretemps of the same kind, one of the 
younger children was told off to stand in the 
cold outside to show late-comers in by the back 
door. 

Unluckily the play, a harmless charade of the 
forcible-feeble order, took place under some dis- 
advantages. In the first place, as the stage was 
on the same level as the auditorium, only the 
people in the first two rows could see anything of 
what was going on. In the second place the per- 
formers, although they were all dead-letter perfect 
and had been pretty well rehearsed, had not mas- 
tered the acoustics of the hall, and were seldom 


A HOUSE-WARMING. 


251 


heard. In the third place the seats were put so 
close together that everybody was on somebody 
else’s toes, or else on somebody else’s gown ; and 
in the fourth place, the hall was so bitterly cold, 
and draughts blew in so steadily from under all 
the doors, that compared with this improvised the- 
atre Mr. Bradfield’s barn had been a warm and 
cozy place. The only things which everybod}- 
heard were the rat-tat-tats at the door, and sub- 
sequently the voice of the eldest Miss Blake, who 
sat in the front row, and inquired from time to 
time plaintively “what they were saying,” and 
the answers which her obliging companion bawled 
in her ear. 

However, Lilith, though not histrionicall}’ great, 
looked very pretty in gray hair, which made her 
young face look fresher than ever; and the place 
was crammed to suffocation. So Mrs. Graham- 
Shute, who panted complacently at the remotest end 
of the hall, and tried to console those who could 
neither see nor hear, and who were restrained by 
her presence from the solace of conversation, was 
quite satisfied. And when the play was over, and 
everybody jumped up and fled frantically in search 
of fire to thaw themselves, she received in perfect 
good faith their vague congratulations. 

There was only one drawback to her happiness; 
this was the persistency with which cousin John 
devoted himself to “those Abercarnes.” 

Wherever Chris went, Mr. Bradfield followed, 
until, as Mrs. Graham-Shute said to Mrs. Browne, 
“ It really was quite a scandal, you know, and she 


252 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


could not understand how any right-minded girl 
could let herself be compromised like that !” 

But Mrs. Browne, who was a good-natured old 
soul, only said that Chris was such a very pretty 
girl that if Mr. Bradfield didn’t follow her about, 
somebody else would, and that she didn’t seem to 
encourage his attentions much. But this seemed 
to Mrs. Graham- Shute only a fresh injury, and 
she presently asked Donald rather snappishly to go 
and talk to that Abercarne girl, and distract her 
attention for a few moments, so that cousin John 
might have a few minutes to himself. 

But Donald was angry, and said sulkily that he 
wasn’t going to be snubbed again. The fact was 
that, presuming a little upon his knowledge of her 
receipt of the letter which he had found in the gar- 
den, he had already tried to force a tete-a-tete upon 
her. She had avoided it, and even spoken to him 
rather coldly; and Donald, who was neither young 
enough nor old enough for chivalry to be a strong 
point with him, had sworn revenge. So now he 
rushed at his opportunity. 

“Snubbed!” echoed Mrs. Graham-Shute, scan- 
dalized. “A housekeeper’s daughter to dare to 
snub you., a Graham-Shute, my son! No, no, 
Donald, you must have misunderstood her, you 
must really !” 

“Iknow jolly well that I didn’t misunderstand,” 
blurted out Donald, in the usually high-pitched 
family voice. “She simply dismissed me as if 
she’d been a princess and I nobody at all, when all 
the time, I could if I liked ” 


A HOUSE- WAB3IING. 


253 


Here Donald paused significantly, wishing to 
yield with apparent reluctance to his burning de- 
sire to betray the girl’s little secret. 

Mrs. Graham-Shute’s face woke at once into 
eager interest. She was not at heart an ill-natured 
woman, and it would have given her no satisfac- 
tion to hear anything very dreadful to the girl’s 
discredit. But some trifling indiscretion, some 
girlish escapade, which it would annoy John Brad- 
field, and perhaps disgust him to hear, that Mrs. 
Graham-Shute would have dearly liked to hear 
about. 

“ What is it? What is it she has done?” she 
asked quickly. ‘‘You may tell your mother, you 
know. It is nothing serious, of course?” 

“Well, I don’t know,” grumbled Donald in a 
surly tone. “Some people might think it seri- 
ous for a girl to keep up a correspondence with 
some fellow who daren’t send his letters by 
post !” 

“ What !” cried Mrs. Graham-Shute. “ Ah — are 
you sure of this, Donald?” 

Nothing could be better than this, if it were only 
true. There was no great harm in it, but it was 
just the sort of thing to put an elderly admirer on 
his guard. 

“ Has she got you to take letters for her then?” 
she asked in horror. 

“Me? No. Not such a fool,” returned Donald, 
shortly. 

The lad was uneasy, being ashamed of himself 
for having betrayed the girl’s confidence, forced 


254 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


though it had been, and afraid of the use his 
mother might make of it. 

“Now, you won’t go and make any mischief, 
will you, mother?” he said earnestly, alarmed by 
the expression of satisfaction on her face. 

“ I should think you might trust me !” she said 
haughtily, as she moved away, anxious to make 
use without delay of her new weapon. 

Having managed to detach cousin John mo- 
mentarily from the Abercarnes, who were in truth 
glad of a moment’s relief from his attentions, Mrs. 
Graham-Shute asked her cousin to get her a cup 
of tea. He complied, and would immediately have 
escaped; but she detained him by bringing her 
fan down with a sharp snap on his arm. 

“One moment, John. I think 3"ou might spare 
me one moment, especially as I want to talk to you 
about your favorites,” she said rather snappish^, 
as he reluctantly waited. 

“ Oh, if you’re going on again about them,” said 
John shortly", “you may save yourself the trouble. 
They are my favorites, and there’s an end to it.” 

“Quite so,” enjoined his cousin sweetly. “It’s 
because of the great interest I know you take in 
them that I want to speak to you. Who is this 
young fellow that Miss Abercarne is going to 
marry?” 

This question, serenely put, though not without 
a strong touch of what a woman would have rec- 
ognized as malice, had the desired effect of star- 
tling John Bradfield, as well as of making him very 
angry. 


A HOUSE- IVABMING. 


255 


What — what do you mean?” he asked shortly, 
‘‘I’ve heard nothing about it. It’s some d — d 
nonsense somebody’s put into your head, and 
there’s not a word of truth in it. I’ll be bound.” 

“ My dear John, don’t be angry. Perhaps there 
is nothing; very likely not. If there had been 
anything in it, no doubt you would have heard. 
But as there’s no doubt she’s carrying on a corre- 
spondence with some one tvho does not send his 
letters by post ^ I naturally thought that it must be 
with some one she thought about rather seriously. 
I dare say I was wrong. So sorry if I’ve made 
any mischief!” she added, as if in sudden surprise 
at the effect of her words. “ But really, you know, 
girls shouldn’t do these things; now, should they?” 

Loud voices were the rule in the house, but Mrs. 
Graham-Shute was startled by the loudness of her 
cousin’s angry reply. 

“ It isn’t true !” roared he. “ It isn’t true. It’s 
one of the infernal concoctions of a spiteful woman. 
I’ll go and ask her.” 

“My dear John,” cried Maude, without temper, 
for she could not afford to quarrel with him; “ my 
dear John, just consider a moment! What possi- 
ble object could I have in saying it if it were not 
true? I should expose myself to all sorts of horrid 
things, and really deserve to be called spiteful — 
and nobody can say that of me, really — if I said 
a thing like that when it was not true. Can’t you 
see that for yourself?” 

But John was blunt to the verge of rudeness. 

“I can see that somebody’s been telling lies,” 


256 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


he said abruptly, as he turned on his heel and fought 
his way back to where Chris was standing near 
her mother, who, having obtained one of the much- 
sought-after chairs, was lost to sight in the crowd 
of guests who had not been so lucky. 

“Miss Christina,” said John Bradfield, not at- 
tempting to hide the fact that he was angry, “ I’ve 
got something to say to you. Is it true that you’re 
carrying on a correspondence with some one?” 

Chris turned deadly white, and every spark of 
animation suddenly left her face. Her mother, 
who was of necessity so close to her that not a look 
nor a word could escape her, broke in sharply : 

“Chris, why don’t you answer? Ask who said 
such a thing. But of course I know who it was !” 

And Mrs. Abercarne threw a steely glance 
toward the spot where Mrs. Graham-Shute’s large 
head could be seen bobbing among the throng, like 
a cork on a surging sea. 

Still Chris made no answer, and her mother, 
suddenly perceiving how white she had grown, 
grew alarmed. 

“Why don’t you deny it, child?” she asked, in 
a low voice quivering with earnestness, as she rose 
to whisper in her daughter’s ear. 

The tears were in the girl’s eyes. She turned 
to her mother, and under the pretence of drawing 
round her shoulders the China crepe shawl which 
Mrs. Abercarne wore as a wrap, she whispered : 

“ Mother, don’t be worried. But I can’t deny 
it; it’s true.” 

Poor Mrs. Abercarne was thunder-struck. If 


A HOUSE-WABMING. 


257 


she had been told ten minutes before that it was 
possible that her Chris — her little girl, as she per- 
sisted in calling her — could be guilty of keeping a 
secret from her, she would have treated the idea 
with scorn. So that at the first moment she was 
absolutely at a loss for words, and could only mur- 
mur, “You, Chris, you!” with quite pathetic 
amazement and grief. 

As for John Bradfield, who stood near enough 
in the crush to catch the purport of their words, 
his amazement had given place to a great fear. 
He did not dare to ask any details concerning her 
correspondence, being deterred, not so much by 
the knowledge that he had no right to do so, as by 
an alarming suspicion as to the identity of the un- 
known lover. 

Fortunately the assembled guests were now be- 
ginning to carry out their long-felt wish to be gone, 
so Mrs. Abercarne and her daughter took advan- 
tage of the thinning of the crowd around them to 
make their escape also. 

Mrs. Graham-Shute was bidding her guests 
farewell, with the bored look of consciousness of 
duty fulfilled. As she shook hands and listened 
to their stereotyped words of thanks, she ex- 
pressed the hope that they had enjoyed them- 
selves, though she might have known they hadn’t. 
Then they all trooped out and drove or walked 
home, exchanging comments which would have 
taken the poor lady’s breath away, and made her 
forswear the world for its base ingratitude, 

17 


258 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


CHAPTER XXVIII. 

A NIGHT ALARM. 

Chris, what does this mean?” 

Wyngham House being so near, Mrs. Aber- 
carne and her daughter had returned on foot. 
They had not exchanged a single word on the way. 
It was not until they had reached the Chinese 
room, and had sat down before the fire there, that 
Mrs. Abercarne thus broke the silence porten- 
tously. 

Chris looked the picture of despair. The color 
had again left her pretty cheeks; there were lines 
brought by anxiety in her fair young face; the 
tears were gathering in her eyes. And yet there 
was something comical in the look of resignation 
with which she deliberately sat down as soon as 
her mother had done so, determined to brave the 
matter out, and get her confession and her scold- 
ing over and done with. At her mother’s ques- 
tion, therefore, she drew a sigh which sounded like 
one of relief. 

“ It means, mother dear, ” she began frankly, 
^Hhat — oh, dear, I know you’ll be so angry! And 
it will worry you besides! I wish you wouldn’t 
ask me. You might take it for granted I haven’t 
done anything dreadful, nothing more than I used 
to do when I was twelve, when I used to find love- 
letters from Willie Mansfield behind the scraper. 


A NIGHT ALARM. 


259 


and answer them in the holly-bush, so that he 
might prick his fingers when he got them.” 

She ended with another sigh, as she rested her 
little round chin in her hand and looked plaintively 
at the fire. 

But Mrs. Abercarne was not to be put off like 
this. 

“Christina,” she said solemnly, drawing herself 
up another inch and looking at the fire herself, 
lest her daughter’s tears should mollify her too 
soon, “ I insist upon a full explanation. You have 
given me none. All I at present know is that my 
daughter has so far forgotten what is due to her- 
self as a gentlewoman as to carry on a clandestine 
correspondence with some unknown person. I 
insist upon knowing at once who the person is.” 

Chris looked at her dolefully. 

“Oh, mother, won’t it do if I promise not to 
write again, and not to receive any more letters?” 

“No, Christina, it will not do,” said Mrs. Aber^ 
came obstinately. “ It is a matter of course that 
you will cease this correspondence. But in the 
mean time I insist on knowing the name of the per- 
son who has induced you to jeopardize your own 
self-respect.” 

Whereupon Chris jumped up with a gesture in- 
dicating recklessness and despair. 

“ All right, mother. Now, don’t scream. It’s 
Mr. Richard — there!” 

If a servant had suddenly appeared with the 
news that an invading army had landed at the 
pier-head and were now surrounding the house or 


260 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


that Lord Llanfyllin had poisoned Lady Llanfyllin 
and married his cook, poor Mrs. Abercarne would 
have been less utterly shocked and struck dumb 
than she was by this intelligence. For a few mo- 
ments she could only stare at her daughter, who, 
now that the crisis was over, began to laugh half- 
hysterically. 

“Mr. — Richard,” the poor lady at last gasped 
out. “ Mr. — Richard — the lu — lu — lunatic ! Oh, 
it isn’t possible! It’s too awful, too appalling! 
I — I — I shall die if it’s true !” 

But Chris was getting better already. She slid 
down on her knees, and put her arm round her 
mother’s neck, unable now to restrain a wild 
inclination to laugh at her mother’s hopeless 
terror. 

“No, you won’t, mother. Of course I couldn’t 
help knowing you’d be awfully angry, and so I 
put off telling you. But it’s not half as bad as 
you think. Dick’s no more mad than you or I.” 

“Dick!” cried poor Mrs. Abercarne, with a 
shriek which subsided into a moan. “ To think of 
my daughter, my Christina, calling a m — ^m — mad- 
man Dick !” 

“But when I tell you that he’s not mad, not mad 
at all,” insisted Chris, raising her voice a little to 
emphasize her words. 

The words were hardly out of her mouth when 
she sprang up with a little cry. 

Mr. Bradfield was in the room. 

Chris became in an instant as red as she had been 
white before. 


A NIGHT ALARM. 


261 


‘^Have you been listening?” she asked impul- 
sively. 

— sh, Christina,” said her mother’s reprov- 
ing voice. 

But the intruder answered with great meekness : 

“Well, I did hear what you were saying when 
I came in; and what’s more, I’m very glad I did, 
for you were making a statement which it’s my 
business to disprove. You were saying that some- 
body was not mad. Now of course you mean my 
unhappy ward Richard.” 

“Your unhappy ward!” retorted Chris with 
spirited emphasis. “Yes, I do mean him.” 

“You think he is not mad?” 

“Not mad enough to be shut up, at any rate.” 

He seemed taken aback by the girl’s boldness 
and straightforwardness, and he did not immedi- 
ately answer, but left Mrs. Abercarne time to read 
her daughter a little lecture on the impropriety of 
her present behavior, which, she said, was only 
the sequel to be expected to her conduct in deceiv- 
ing her mother. Chris began to look distressed, 
but before she could answer this accusation Mr. 
Bradfield broke in : 

“Never mind what she says, Mrs. Abercarne. 
She’s only a foolish girl, and it’s lucky we’ve 
found out this affair before he’s found an oppor- 
tunity of dashing her silly brains out. He’s been 
worse than usual the last few days, and I’m ex- 
pecting some sort of dangerous outbreak every 
day. Let us be thankful things have gone no 
farther.” 


262 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


And, affecting to take no further notice of Chris, 
he shook hands with Mrs. Abercarne, bade her 
good'night, and left the room with a curious look 
of sullen determination on his face which fright- 
ened the younger lady so much that she was silent 
for some minutes. 

At last she said, in a frightened whisper: 

“Mother, what do you think he’s going to do? 
I never saw him look like that before.” 

But she got no sympathy. Mrs. Abercarne was 
entirely on John Bradfield’s side, and expressed 
her opinion that whatever he did would be the 
proper thing to do. But, on the promise of Chris 
to cease all correspondence ai once with Mr. Rich- 
ard, a truce was patched up between mother and 
daughter, and the subject of contention was al- 
lowed to drop. 

Poor Chris, however, felt that she could not so 
suddenly break off all communication with the un- 
happy Dick without one word of explanation. So 
she contrived to meet Stelfox that very night be- 
fore she retired to her room, and without hiding 
the fact that she had been exchanging communi- 
cations with his charge, begged him to tell Mr. 
Richard that she had been obliged to promise to 
do so no longer. 

Stelfox, as usual, showed no surprise. He said 
he would deliver her message, and that was all. 

It is not to be wondered at that, after such an 
exciting evening, Chris was unable to sleep. She 
now occupied a little bed in the same room with 
her mother’s large one ; and presently, finding her 


A NIGHT ALARM. 


263 


own sad thoughts intolerable, she got up and very 
quietly crossed the corridor to the Chinese room in 
search of a book. 

Just as she reached the door, a noise, which 
seemed to come from the east wing at the opposite 
end of the house, caused her to turn her head 
quickly. There was no light in the corridor, so 
that she could see nothing. Her first idea was 
that burglars had got into the house, and she was 
on the point of running back to rouse her mother 
and give the alarm when she heard the unlocking 
of a door. It then fiashed into her mind that it 
was perhaps Stelfox coming out of the east wing 
that had attracted her attention. Being determined 
to find out whicli of these two surmises was cor- 
rect, she did not wish to alarm the household with- 
out cause. She went to the end of the corridor, 
without, however, venturing too near the spot 
whence the noise came. Chris was not particularly 
courageous, and the fear of meeting a real live 
burglar caused her to tremble from head to foot. 
The noise went on all the time until she reached 
the railing which surrounded the well of the stair- 
case, and from here she could see a dark mass, 
which might have been anything, but which 
must, so she supposed, be a human being, disap- 
pearing out of her sight from the bottom of the 
staircase into the hall. That was all she could 
see; and as she still leaned over the railing, the 
last sound died away without her being able to 
tell whether the figure she had seen had left the 
house or not. 


264 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


For a few moments she was absolutely paralyzed 
with terror, and remained quite still in the cold, 
not daring to move or to cry out, afraid even to 
turn round, lest she should find the hand of a 
burglar laid upon her mouth. At last, however, 
as she heard nothing more, she began slowly to 
recover her wits, and to wonder what it was she 
had seen, what she should do, and whether she was 
not making a great fuss about nothing. 

Then followed shame at her own alarm, until at 
last she went back along the corridor, telling her- 
self that the cause of her fright must have been a 
visit paid by Stelfox to his charge in the east wing. 
Of course it might have been a burglar that she had 
seen, but then on the other hand it seemed more 
likely that it was not, for burglars usually find out 
before entering a house in what part of it the most 
valuable portable property is kept, and it was cer- 
tainly not kept in the east wing. 

So Chris, reassured, went into the Chinese room, 
though not without a feeling that this was an ex- 
ceedingly daring thing for her to do after the 
fright she had had. 

When she had chosen her book, she opened the 
door, when, her ears being more on the alert than 
usual, she heard another unusual noise, proceed- 
ing this time from the outside of the house. 

Kneeling upon the ottoman under the window 
at the west end of the corridor, she looked out, and 
saw, to her horror, a man staggering along across 
the grass in the direction of the sea, with a shape- 
less mass hanging over his shoulder. And as this 


A lIVSTUBIOUS DmAPPEARANCE. 265 


shapeless mass defined itself when her eyes became 
accustomed to the gloom, she saw that it was the 
body of a man. 


CHAPTER XXIX. 

A MYSTERIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 

It is sad, in -these days of strong-minded girls 
with nerves of iron, to have to relate of poor Chris 
Abercarne that she fainted. No sooner had she 
convinced herself that it was really the body of an- 
other man that the living man in the garden below 
was carrying across his shoulder than her hands 
relaxed their hold of the window-sill, and she fell 
in a heap on the ottoman. 

When she opened her eyes again she knew 
nothing but that she felt very cold, so that for 
the first moment she supposed that she was in bed 
and that the bedclothes had slid off on to the floor. 
Raising herself, and looking about her, she soon 
remembered what had happened, and with a cry 
got on to her feet. So stiff and benumbed was she 
that she staggered on her way back to her own and 
her mother’s room, and fumbled with the handle. 

And while she was thus occupied, another oc- 
currence, almost as startling as the previous one, 
attracted her attention. There v/as a flash of light 
at the other end of the corridor, and by it Chris 
saw with perfect distinctness Mr. Bradfield com- 
ing out of the door of the east wing. Before Chris 


266 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


had had time to make out where the light came 
from, Mr. Bradfield reclosed the door softly, and 
he and the light disappeared at the same time. 

Chris felt as if she was losing her wits. Hastily 
rousing her mother from sleep, she told her all that 
had happened in such a hysterical fashion, with 
such wild eyes and such a pale face, that at first 
Mrs. Abercarne was disposed to think that the girl 
had been dreaming. Chris herself seemed to in- 
cline to the same opinion . N e vertheless she begged 
her mother just to come into the corridor with her 
for one moment. 

‘‘Perhaps,” went on Chris, her teeth chattering 
with the cold, “perhaps you’ll see something or 
hear something to show you that it was really true. 
But oh, how I hope you won’t.” 

Mrs. Abercarne drew on her dressing-gown, and 
mother and daughter went out into the corridor 
together. They had scarcely done so before they 
began to cough and to choke, as a volume of blind- 
ing smoke came rushing toward them from the 
east end of the house. 

“Fire! fire! The house is on fire!” cried Mrs. 
Abercarne. 

And as she rushed along the corridor, she ran 
against Mr. Bradfield as he came out of his room. 

“What! What do you say?” cried he, as if in 
amazement and alarm. 

But Chris noticed that he had had time to dress. 
And as a multitude of ghastly suspicions forced 
themselves into her mind, she burst out passion- 
ately : 


A 3IYSTERI0US DISAPPEARANCE. 267 

“ Dick ! What have you done to Dick?” 

Mr. Bradfield did not turn to look at her, nor 
did he answer. But she saw him shiver. 

By this time the whole household had taken the 
alarm. The servants came running from above 
and from below, among the latter being Stelfox, 
whom Chris detained for a moment as soon as he 
reached the top of the stairs. 

“ Mr. Richard ! Mr. Richard !” she cried in tones 
of agony. “ Save him, save him — if he is there ! ” 

As she uttered these words, prompted thereto by 
a sudden suspicion that it was Stelfox whom she 
had seen carrying the lifeless body, and that the 
body was that of the unhappy Dick, she saw a look 
exchanged between the man-servant and Mr. Brad- 
field, who had come up to hear what she was say- 
ing. Chris put her hands up to her head, covered 
her eyes, and shrank back with a great sob. The 
horror of the situation, and the fears of her heart, 
were too much for her. She let her mother lead 
her to a seat, where she sat shivering and weeping 
silently during the tumult which followed. But 
unnerved and disorganized as she was, Chris had 
sense enough left to notice that Stelfox did not 
rush forward and attempt to force an entrance into 
the burning wing. He tried the handle of the door 
indeed, but finding it locked, he did not even pro- 
duce his own key. He turned instead toward 
his master, and looked at him for a moment stead- 
fastly before suggesting that the fire extinguish- 
ers, which were kept ready in cupboards all over 
the house, should be brought and used at once. 


268 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Mr. Bradfield at once gave an order to that effect, 
and as in the mean time the stablemen had been at 
work on the outside with ladders and with appara- 
tus which was kept in the stable-yard for the pur- 
pose, before very long the fire was got under, and 
it was possible to enter the rooms of the east wing. 

In the mean while Mr. Richard had not been for- 
gotten. The outer door leading to his apartments 
had been burst open ; but the rush of black, blind- 
ing smoke which followed, made it absolutely im- 
possible to penetrate farther than the passage 
within. The stablemen, who tried from outside 
to rescue the unfortunate man, fared no better. 
By the time they had forced the windows the rooms 
were well alight, and they found it impossible to 
enter. 

Exclamations of pity and distress on account of 
the unlucky young fellow passed from lip to lip 
among the women of the household, whose sobs 
and cries added to the tumult. The one woman 
whom a mixed assembly generally produces who 
is the equal of any man was duly forthcoming in 
the person of a young housemaid who, at the risk 
of her life, penetrated as far as Mr. Richard’s sleep- 
ing-apartment, which was by that time all in 
flames. She was rescued herself just in time, be- 
ing dragged out in an insensible condition. But 
as soon as she revived, she declared that she had 
been in time to discover that Mr. Richard was not 
in the bed at all. This statement, which she made 
in presence of most of the household, was little re- 
garded except by Chris, on whose ears this piece 


A JIYSTUmOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 269 

of intelligence fell with sinister import. She fell 
back again into her mother’s arms, her eyes closed, 
in a state bordering on insensibility. It having 
been by this time ascertained that the fire would 
not spread beyond the wing in which it had orig- 
inated, Mr. Bradfield had leisure to think of the 
girl. He drew near to where she sat leaning 
against her mother’s shoulder, and asked if she 
was better. But at the first sound of his voice, 
Chris started up, her eyes wide open, her face lined 
with horror. 

“I shall never be better, never,” she said trem- 
ulously, ‘‘until I am out of this dreadful house.” 

And she would not look at him, she would not 
listen to him; but nestling against her mother like 
a pert and frightened child, she turned her head 
away with a shudder. 

“Don’t speak to her now,” said Mrs. Abercarne 
anxiously. “ I am afraid the poor child is going 
to be ill.” 

She led her daughter back to her room, but even 
as they went along the corridor, there came a ru- 
mor, a cry to their ears, which had passed from 
one to the other of the servants until it reached 
them. 

Mr. Richard could not be found ; this was the 
burden of the cry. Chris stopped short. 

“No,” she said, in a low voice, staring in front 
of her. “ He was murdered first, and the place 
was set on fire as a blind.” 

And then she laughed hysterically, so that her 
mother began to tremble for her sanity. 


270 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


When the morning came, Chris was too ill to 
get lip, and a doctor was sent for, who ordered her 
to remain in bed and keep very quiet. Before 
night she had become worse, and on hearing that 
she had been suffering from worry and shock, the 
doctor gave it as his opinion that she was suffer- 
ing from brain fever. It was either that or ty- 
phoid, although at the present stage he could not 
definitely pronounce which it was. 

In the mean time rumor was busy, and it said, 
starting from the gossip among the servants of the 
household, that the fire had not been an accident. 
The place was not insured, so there was no official 
investigation into its origin. But gossip spoke of 
the smell of paraffin, and the story was soon cur- 
rent that Mr. Richard had conceived a hopeless 
passion for Miss Abercarne, that he had set fire to 
the place in order to effect his escape, and that he 
had then committed suicide by throwing himself 
into the sea. 

Chris knew nothing of all this. She lay for 
many days unconscious, hanging at one time be- 
tween life and death. Mr. Bradfield’s despair at 
any apparent change for the worse in her condition 
was quite as great as that of her own mother. His 
haggard face, his anxious eyes, the change from 
brusque abruptness to an almost timorous vacilla- 
tion in his manner, excited the comment of the en- 
tire neighborhood. Some put the change in him 
down to anxiety as to the fate of his ward, of whom 
no inquiries could find a trace ; some to despair on 
the young lady’s account. When Chris began to 


A 3IYSTERI0US DISAPPEARANCE. 271 

get better, her mother’s anxieties about the girl 
were as deep as ever. For the melancholy in the 
girl’s eyes was touching in the extreme; a shadow 
seemed to have been cast upon her whole nature. 
Her frivolity had gone, but it seemed to have taken 
the freshness- of her youth with it. Mrs. Aber- 
carne longed for, at the same time that she dreaded, 
an explanation. 

It came one day when Chris had been carried 
for the first time into the Chinese room, and laid 
upon the sofa. Mrs. Abercarne was watching 
her daughter anxiously, when Chris said : 

‘‘Mother, has anything been found out — about 
the fire?” 

Mrs. Abercarne flushed slightly ; she had heard 
a good many rumors, but had shut her ears as 
much as possible. 

“ Found out !” she echoed, as if surprised by the 
question. “ Why, no, of course not.” 

“I mean — doesn’t anybody think it strange?” 

“ That there should be a fire? No. It is always 
dangerous to use lamps. And Mr. Richard, poor 
young man, was evidently not to be trusted with 
one.” 

Chris moved impatiently. But she only asked : 

“Do they think he was burned alive, then?” 

Mrs. Abercarne hesitated. She wished with all 
her heart, poor dear lady, that she could honestly 
sa}^ “Yes.” But truth (and the certainty that she 
would be found out if she told a falsehood) pre- 
vailed. 

“It is impossible to say,” she answered shortly. 


2T2 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


But — but I believe they did not succeed in find- 
ing any traces of the body.” 

Ah !” said Chris, as if this had been just what 
she expected. 

She asked no more questions, but sat for a long 
time looking thoughtfully out at the sea. At last 
her mother ventured to say : 

“Mr. Bradfield wants to know, my darling, 
what fiowers you would like best for him to send 
you. He is very anxious for the time to come 
when he may see you, though he does not wish to 
intrude too soon.” 

Mrs. Abercarne had thought it wiser not to look 
at her daughter while she said this, so she did not 
see the cloud which darkened on the girl’s face at 
the mention of the name. 

When Chris next spoke, however, there was a 
difference in her tone. 

“Mother, I want to speak to Stelfox.” 

Mrs. Abercarne flushed again, and frowned 
slightly with perplexity. She wished her daugh- 
ter would not ask such awkward questions. After 
a moment’s hesitation she asked : 

“ Why, my dear? What have you got to say to 
him? I am quite sure,” she went on hurriedly, 
“ that the doctor would not allow 3’^ou to see any- 
body just yet.” 

Chris turned slowly and looked at her mother. 

“Has he been sent away?” sne asked abruptly. 

“Well, my dear, I don’t know whether he has 
been sent away for good or not, but he is certainly 
away at present.” 


A lirSTEBIOUS DISAPPEARANCE. 273 


The girl’s face fell again, and her mother in vain 
tried to rouse her from the depression into which 
she had fallen. 

The hopelessness which had fallen upon the girl 
like a pall retarded her convalescence. She took 
no interest in anything; the only way in which 
her mother could rouse any emotion in her was by 
an allusion to Mr. Bradfield, and then the feeling 
shown by the girl was one of the utmost abhor- 
rence. 

Poor Mrs. Abercarne, therefore, soon began to 
find herself in a very awkward position , between 
her employer on the one hand, eagerly anxious to 
see the girl, or even to minister to her pleasure, 
unseen, in any way that might be suggested; and 
her daughter on the other, who had conceived such 
a strong aversion for the man that she would not 
even look at the books and papers her mother 
brought her, because she knew that they were sup- 
plied by him. Her dislike, indeed, to the very sound 
of his name was becoming almost a mania, so that 
Mrs. Abercarne feared she would have to leave 
Wyngham on account of it. 

It need scarcely be said that Mrs. Abercarne,* 
who had been completely won by John Bradfield’s 
passion for her daughter, not only acquitted him 
of the crime her daughter chose to suggest in the 
matter of the fire, but looked upon the disappear- 
ance of the lunatic, either by suicide or by misad- 
venture, as a very fortunate circumstance. 

18 


274 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


CHAPTER XXX. 

MR. MARKABLE AGAIN. 

The doctor was troubled by the slowness of the 
girl’s convalescence, and by her own lack of a 
strong desire to get well again. He recommended 
change for one thing, and cheerful society. Now 
the one was as difficult to get as the other. Change 
could only be got by sacrificing a situation, to the 
disadvantages of which Mrs. Abercarne had grown 
accustomed, while its advantages she appreciated 
more every day. Cheerful society seemed more 
out of the question still. 

It was, therefore, with a feeling almost of grati- 
tude that Mrs. Abercarne, while sitting by her 
daughter’s sofa one morning, heard that Miss Lil- 
ith Graham-Shute w^as downstairs, and that she 
wanted to know if she could see Miss Abercarne. 

“Show her up, Corbett,” said Mrs. Abercarne. 
And turning to Chris, she said, “You would like 
to see her, my dear, wouldn’t you?” 

“Yes,” said Chris. The two girls, indeed, had 
felt a mutual attraction, and had only been pre- 
vented by the fierce enmity which raged between 
their respective mothers from becoming very good 
friends indeed. 

When Lilith came in, smiling, bright-eyed, 
cheery, and suffering from a valiant attempt to 
subdue her usual exuberance of voice and manner, 
her entrance was like a ray of sunshine. She came 


MR. MARRABLE AGAIN. 


275 


to the side of the sofa on tip-toe, which was quite 
unnecessary, and caused her to be so unsteady of 
gait that she knocked over a basket of flowers 
which had been placed on a little stand beside the 
sofa. 

‘^Oh, look what I’ve done!” she cried, as she 
stooped down in haste to repair the mischief. 

“Oh, you needn’t trouble about those things!” 
cried Chris ungratefully, with a little look which 
girls’ freemasonry enabled Lilith to understand. 

Miss Graham-Shute’s big brown eyes grew round 
with delight at the prospect at a little bit of inter- 
esting gossip if they should get a chance to be 
alone together. She nodded discreetly, as she went 
down on her knees to rearrange the scattered daf- 
fodils and lilies of the valley. 

“I’m such a clumsy creature!” cried she in 
feigned distress. “Donald always says I’m like a 
bull in a china shop. Oh !” she cried, as she buried 
her little retrousse nose in a bunch of Parma vio- 
lets, “ I should like to be ill if I could get such at- 
tentions as these bestowed upon me! You area 
lucky girl, Chris ! And an ungrateful one, too !” 
she added in a lower voice, with a glance at Mrs. 
Abercarne, whose back was for the moment turned. 

“You can have the flowers if you like,” said 
Chris quickly. “Yes, do take them,” she added 
eagerly, as Lilith made a gesture of refusal. “ I 
shall be so glad if you will. They — they are too 
strongly scented,” she added as an excuse, as she 
noticed a look of pain and annoyance on her 
mother’s face. 


276 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“ Oh, well, they are not too strongly scented for 
me,” said Lilith dryl}-. ‘‘Thank yon awfully, 
dear. I’ll be sure to remember to bring back the 
basket.” 

“No. Don’t. Keep it; I don’t want to see any 
of it again.” 

She spoke petulantly, for the handsome gift had 
been accompanied by a message from Mr. Brad- 
field almost demanding permission to see her. 

Then Mrs. Abercarne, moved to wrath, spoke. 

“ I think you are very ungrateful, Chris. Those 
flowers were sent for from Covent Garden expressly 
for you, and at great expense.” 

She was not unwilling to annoy the Graham- 
Shutes by proving in what high estimation “ the 
Abercarnes” were held at Wyngham House. 

“Chris, you ought to be ashamed of yourself, 
you really ought,” said Lilith gayly, as she got up 
from her knees. “Now don’t let me knock any- 
thing else over. You haven’t any silver tables or 
anything of that sort, luckily.” 

She glanced merrily round her, in all innocence ; 
but Mrs. Abercarne, always rather too ready to 
feel insulted, chose to consider this speech as a 
barbed one. 

“No. Unfortunately we are not rich enough to 
buy unnecessary things,” she said acidly. “And 
we are not refined enough to look upon silver tables 
as necessaries.” 

“You needn’t talk at me as if I were mamma, 
Mrs. Abercarne,” cried Lilith brightly. “ I know 
we buy unnecessary things and leave the necessary 


MR. MARRABLE AGAIN. 


277 


ones unbouglit. I know we spend money on toys 
which are supposed to be ancient silver, when in 
reality they are modern pewter, and have to darn 
our gloves. I know we do lots of things which 
are foolish and get us laughed at; but after all 
you can laugh at us, and you ought to be grateful 
for that !” 

The girl’s sense of fun was infectious, and Chris 
laughed aloud. Lilith went on : 

“ The latest — no, not the very latest craze, but 
the latest but one — is for me to blossom out into a 
great dramatic writer, and to buy a house for us 
all in Kensington Palace Gardens. Mamma says I 
am brimming over with talent (and perhaps I am, 
but it hasn’t troubled me much till it was pointed 
out tome), and there is a dearth of dramatists, and 
I am to ‘supply a long-felt want,’ as the adver- 
tisements say. And all on the strength of my 
little play the other day, which, by the by, I have 
sent up to a London manager to read. Of course 
I’m hoping he’ll take it, but it seems almost too 
good to be possible, doesn’t it?” 

The girl spoke playfully, but with just enough 
wistfulness in her tone for the other ladies to see 
that she was full of the most forlorn of all forlorn 
hopes. Mrs. Abercarne began to perceive that even 
Graham-Shutes may be human, moved with like 
passions to our own. And when Corbett appeared 
again, asking if she could speak to Mrs. Abercarne 
for a minute, that lady left the room with the pleas- 
ant consciousness that the visit of the lively girl 
was doing Chris good. 


278 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


No sooner were they alone than Lilith drew near 
to her companion mysteriously. 

Chris, tell me, is it true that you don’t like Mr. 
Bradfield, and don’t mean to marry him if he asks 
you?” 

“ Indeed it is,” answered Chris hotly, with more 
energy than she had shown since the beginning of 
her illness. “ I wouldn’t marry him if he were the 
richest and the most charming person in the world !” 

“ Then I think you’re very silly !” 

Chris laughed a little. 

It’s lucky Mrs. Graham-Shute can’t hear you 
say so !” 

Lilith burst into a laugh of delightful merriment. 

“ Yes, indeed it is,” she admitted heartily. “ It’s 
the greatest dread of her life that you should be- 
come Mrs. John Bradfield of Wyngham House. 
And nothing will induce her to believe that you 
are not trying to bring it about. For my own 
part,” she went on prosaically, as Chris shook her 
head, I should think much better of you if you 
were.” 

Chris looked at her in amazement. 

“What! This from you T cried she. “They 
do say, you know, that you are always in love, 
and always with somebody who hasn’t any money 
at all.” 

“ Well, I suppose they’re right. Men who have 
money are always horrid, aren’t they? Still, if 
one of the horrid creatures were to ask me, I should 
have to have him, I suppose,” she went on with a 
sigh. “ And as no girl can ever fall in love with 


MR. MARRABLE AGAIN. 


279 


a rich man, I may just as well be in love with a 
poor man first, and know something of the senti- 
ment.” 

“ Who is it now?” asked Chris, smiling and 
rather interested. 

“Oh, it’s still the same one — the mysterious 
stranger I saw in the barn on the evening of the 
tableaux vivants.^^ 

“ What !” said Chris, turning suddenly crimson, 
while the tears rushed into her eyes. “ It is more 
than two months since then. This is constancy 
indeed.” 

“ It’s so easy to be constant down here!” sighed 
Lilith. “ And I admit that I might have wavered 
a little before now in my devotion if I hadn’t seen, 
or thought I had seen, my handsome stranger in 
town the other day, when I went up with mamma 
to do some shopping.” 

To her astonishment, Chris sprang up from her 
sofa in great excitement. 

“You saw him! You saw him!” cried she, all 
her old animation in her face, the old ring in her 
voice. 

Lilith looked at her in amazement. 

“ Why, Chris, who was he? You pretended you 
didn’t know !” 

But the light had already died out of her com- 
panion’s eyes. Sighing heavily, she answered: 

“ Indeed, it was true that I did not then know 
who you meant. And if you did really see him 
yesterday, why then he was not the person I have 
since supposed him to have been.” 


280 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Lilith, who had heard the rumors of a flirtation 
or attachment between Chris and the alleged luna- 
tic, was full of interest and curiosity. 

‘‘Why, Chris,” said she, “was that the person 
they called ‘Mr. Richard?’ If so, I don’t wonder 
you liked him better than cousin John.” 

But Chris would confess nothing, and rather 
irritated Lilith by her reticence. 

“ What do people say about him? How do they 
account for his having disappeared?” 

“Well,” said Lilith, lowering her voice, “they 
say that he set the place on fire in order to escape, 
and that he’ll come back some day and murder 
cousin John!” 

“That’s all nonsense,” said Chris sharply. “A 
lunatic might do that, but not Dick !” 

“ ‘Dick !’ Oh !” said Lilith, raising her eyebrows. 
“ You have confessed something, at any rate now, 
haven’t you?” 

But for answer Chris burst into tears, so that 
Mrs. Abercarne, returning, looked at Lilith with 
stern reproach. 

“I’m so sorry,” said Lilith penitently. “But, 
Mrs. Abercarne, it’s really better for her to cry 
than to lie all day looking as if she wanted to ! 
And, oh ! I’d nearly forgotten what I came for. 
Mamma sent me to borrow a box of sardines !” 

Mrs. Abercarne suppressed a smile at this char- 
acteristic errand. 

“I’m afraid we haven’t such a thing in the 
house,” she said. “A friend of Mr. Bradfield’s 
has just arrived from town unexpectedly, so we 


MR. MARRABLE AGAIN. 


281 


have been running our minds over the stores 
to see what we could give him to eat to stave off 
his hunger until Mr. Bradfield comes home to 
luncheon.” 

“Who is it, mother?” asked Chris, in whom 
Mrs. Abercarne noted this curiosity as a sign that 
Lilith’s visit had done her good. 

“ Oh, the unfortunate person who sprained his 
ankle on Christmas Day.” 

“ Mr. Marrable !” Chris clasped her hands with 
a fresh access of excitement. “ Mother, let me see 
him — at once. Do let me.” 

Both the other ladies were a good deal surprised 
at this demand, and the vehemence with which it 
was expressed. But there was no resisting her 
importunity ; and therefore, as soon as Lilith had 
reluctantly taken her departure, Mr. Marrable, as 
shy and nervous as ever, was shown up into the 
Chinese room. 

He expressed his delight at the honor Miss Aber- 
carne had done him by admitting him, and was 
proceeding to utter some old-fashioned compliments 
which he had been preparing on the way upstairs, 
when Chris, by a look at her mother, induced that 
lady to leave the room. Then the girl turned to 
Mr. Marrable, and exhibited a sudden energy which 
startled that rather flaccid gentleman. 

“Mr. Marrable,” she said imperiously, “I have 
heard you talk of an old friend. of yours and Mr. 
Bradfield ’s, named Gilbert Wryde.” 

At the mention of the name Mr. Marrable started 
violently. 


282 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“Yes, yes, er — er — I may have mentioned him; 
I sa}^ I may have mentioned him,” he answered 
feebly, looking round as if he hoped to find a way 
of escape. 

“This Gilbert Wryde had a son, I think you 
said?” 

“ Oh, my goodness !” murmured poor Mr. Mar- 
rable. And then, seeing that she was determined, 
he admitted that he might have mentioned that 
too. 

“ Tell me, and tell me the truth, mind,” continued 
the young girl earnestly, “when you knew that 
son — years ago that was, of course, when he was 
quite a child — was there anything the matter with 
him?” 

Mr. Marrable stared at her piteously, as if feel- 
ing he could hope for no mercy from this excited 
female. 

“Nothing,” murmured he feebly; “nothing of 
any consequence, that is to say, beyond, of coarse, 
being deaf and dumb.” 

To his horror, the young lady sprang up with a 
wild cry, clasping her hands, as if she had received 
a revelation. 

“ Deaf — and — ^dumb !” 

And, uttering these words, she sank back faint- 
ing on the sofa. 


BLACKMAIL. 


283 


CHAPTER XXXI. 

BLACKMAIL. 

Poor Mr. Marrable was very much frightened 
by the effect of his words upon Chris. He rushed 
to the door of the room, and summoned Mrs. 
Abercarne with frantic cries. 

But before her mother could reach the room 
Chris had entirely recovered her self-command un- 
der the influence of a strong feeling of relief, and 
when Mr. Marrable went downstairs to await John 
Bradfleld’s return, she was brighter and less list- 
less than she had been since her illness. 

In the first place, the hope, weak as it was, 
which Lilith’s words had woke in her was enough 
to live upon for a day or two at least; and in the 
second place, the fact she had learned from Alfred 
Marrable had relieved her from the last trace of 
suspicion that she had given her love to a maniac. 
Now that she knew that Mr. Richard had been 
deaf and dumb, she understood much that had ap- 
peared strange in his conduct toward her. It was 
clear that when he had left her questions unan- 
swered it was because he could not hear them; and 
she now remembered that he had watched her lips 
as often as possible when she spoke, and had evi- 
dently understood her words by these means. This 
then was the infirmity to which he had alluded in 
his letter ; and now the only thing which puzzled 


284 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


her was the fact that on the last two occasions 
when she had met him he had spoken to her. 
When and how had he recovered or obtained the 
power of speech? 

It is a curious fact that this interview with Mr. 
Marrable and the information he had given her, 
increased, without her being able to account for it, 
her new belief that her lover might be sfcill alive. 
She moved about with new cheerfulness, nourish- 
ing the hope that her mother would either take her 
or send her to London, where, as she knew, all 
those people go who for any reason wish to remain 
for a time in concealment. 

On the other hand, what reason could Dick have 
for wishing to remain in hiding? Would he not 
rather, if he had escaped the dangers of the night 
of the fire, return either to see her or to bring Mr. 
Bradfield to book for his long incarceration ? j^.nd 
what had been the object of that incarceration? 
What also had been the meaning of the scene she 
had witnessed on the night of the fire? 

With these and similar questions the young girl’s 
brain seemed to reel, as she sat at her window 
looking out at the gray sea. 

Meanwhile Mr. Bradfield had returned from his 
morning’s ride, and had been greeted, on dismount- 
ing from his horse, with the information that Mr. 
Marrable was waiting to see him. 

John Bradfield entered the dining-room, into 
which the discriminating footman . had shown 
Marrable as a person not quite smart enough for 
the drawing-room, with a frown on his face. 


BLACKMAIL. 


285 


‘^Oh, so you’re here again, are you?” was his 
abrupt greeting. 

Alfred, who felt better after the glass of beer 
and crust of bread and cheese which he had mod- 
estly chosen as his refreshment, came toward his 
old friend smiling and trying to look cheerful. 

“Yes,” he answered mildly, “as you say, I’m 
here again.” 

His cheerfulness did not please Mr. Bradfield, 
who frowned still more as he asked shortly : 

“Well, and what do you want?” 

Now this Mr. Marrable did not quite like to con- 
fess. So he went on smiling, until he perceived, 
by an ominous motion of his friend’s boot, that 
that gentleman’s endurance was about to give 
way. 

“ Well, John, it’s no use beating about the bush. 
The fact is I’m down on my luck; there’s nothing 
doing up in town, and things don’t seem to get any 
better, and ” 

“ And you want some money, I suppose ; your 
next quarter’s allowance advanced you, in fact?” 

“Well, no, not exactly that, though I don’t say 
it wouldn’t be a convenience.” 

John looked at him incredulously. 

“What do you want then?” 

He wasn’t exactly afraid of Marrable, who 
seemed too flabby a sort of person to inspire one 
with much fear of what he might do ; at the same 
time there was no denying that the weak vessel 
before him contained some perilous stuff in the 
way of undesirable knowledge. The man’s au- 


286 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


dacity in coming down again so soon gave him 
food for reflection. 

“The fact is,” answered Marrable softly, “that 
my wife and I were talking things over last night, 
and she said things were so bad that it would be 
better for us to part, and she said she was sure you 
wouldn’t mind giving an old friend like me a shel- 
ter for a time ” 

“ The d — 1 she did !” exclaimed Mr. Bradfield in 
amazement. “And hadn’t you the sense to tell 
her that the suggestion was like her cheek?” 

“Why, no, John,” returned Marrable just as 
gently as ever ; “ I didn’t tell her that, for I thought 
myself it wasn’t a bad idea.” 

There was a pause, during which John Brad- 
fleld considered the downcast, hang-dog face 
of the other, while his own grew perceptibly 
paler. 

“ Why?” he presently asked. 

“ Oh, I’m sure I don’t want to make myself un- 
pleasant in any way, John, but it seemed so odd to 
find Gilbert Wryde’s son here shut up as a luna- 
tic ” 

John Bradfield shivered. And the look he cast 
at the other was not pleasant to see. 

“ Do you mean to suggest that you had any rea- 
son for thinking that he was not a lunatic?” 

Marrable’s answer came quickly: he was evi- 
dently anxious to get it out before he got afraid to 
say it. 

“Well, I should like to see him, that’s all.” 

“You haven’t heard then about the fire down 


BLACKMAIL. 


287 


here? He overturned his lamp, set fire to the 
place, and was burnt alive.” 

“ Dear me ! Was there an inquest?” 

These direct questions, put timorously, had the 
effect of making John Bradfield so furious that he 
stammered as he spoke. 

“There was no inquest. The body could not 
be found.” 

“Perhaps,” suggested Marrable, “he wasn’t 
burnt at all. Perhaps he escaped. Or perhaps ” 

Although he paused significantly, John Brad- 
field did not urge him to go on . There was a pause 
before Alfred said, in the same infantile manner 
as before : 

“And what’s become of all his money, John?” 

“ He never had any.” 

“But he ought to have had plenty,” rejoined 
Marrable in the same sing-song voice. “Now, I’ll 
make a clean breast of it, John. Not that I wish 
to make myself unpleasant, as I said before, but 
when I was down here at Christmas I thought 
things looked fishy (I don’t want to be unkind, 
but they really did) ; so when I got back to town I 
got a friend to cable over to Melbourne for me, and 
find out the particulars of Gilbert Wryde’s will.” 

Then there was a pause. John Bradfield looked, 
not at his old chum, but out at the sea, which lay 
a bright blue-gray in the sunshine. To think that 
he should have escaped detection all these years 
to be brought to book at last by such a paltr}^ crea- 
ture; that was the thought that was surging in 
his mind as he stood, digging his nails into his 


288 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


own flesh, and not listening very eagerly for the 
next words, for he knew so well what they would 
be. 

‘‘ I onl}" got the letter yesterday which gave me 
all particulars. I know that Gilbert Wryde left 
all his money to you in trust for his son. So,” 
pursued Alfred slowly, and apparently without vin- 
dictiveness, “ you never really made any money at 
all yourself, John, any more than I. But you’ve 
lived like a fighting-cock on Gilbert Wryde’s. 
That’s about the size of it, isn’t it, old chap?” 

Although he was trying to give a playful turn 
to his conversation, Marrable did not speak cheer- 
fully. 

There was a long pause. John Bradfield, being 
hopelessly cornered, saw that there was nothing 
for it but to find out the lowest price at which Al- 
fred would be bought. His methods were always 
blunt, so that Marrable was not surprised when 
his old chum simply planted himself on the carpet 
in front of him, jingling some money in his pock- 
ets, and asked briefly : 

“ How much do you want?” 

Marrable, who never looked up at his friend if 
he could help it, bleated out quite plaintively: 

“ Well, John, for myself I should be sorry to 
stoop so low as to take anything. But I should 
like to send home a ten-pound note, if you could 
spare it, and all I’ll ask of you is to put me up here 
for a bit and let me make myself at home as we 
used to do in the old days together.” 

John Bradfield was so much amazed at this re- 


BLACKMAIL. 


289 


quest that for a few moments he could give no an- 
swer whatever. The thought of having always in 
the house with him this flabby, weak-kneed crea- 
ture, who was nevertheless his master by virtue of 
his knowledge, was so galling that he would rather 
have given up the half of his ill-gotten property 
than have supported the infliction. He laughed 
shortly therefore, and said in a jeering tone : 

“ What, believing me to be capable of what you 
accuse me of, you are willing to trust yourself un- 
der the same roof with me? It wouldn’t be very 
hard to make you to pass for a lunatic with all the 
medical men in the county, you know !” 

But Marrable bore the jibe placidly. 

If anything were to happen to me, John, while 
I was down here,” he answered composedly, “my 
wife, who put me up to coming down, would come 
down after me. And if once she got hold of you, 
John, oh, wouldn’t you wish me back again, that’s 
all!” 

John Bradfield was silent. The net was closing 
round him. Already the fatal knowledge was in 
the power of more persons than he knew : he felt 
the strong walls of his citadel, in which he had 
been secure for seventeen years, crumbling. He 
was man enough, however, to be able to keep his 
feelings to himself. 

“All right,” said he shortly, “you can stay if 
you like, of course. And when you like to go, you 
can take what you want with you.” 

But Marrable, who had a conscience, was not 
quite satisfied. 

19 


290 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Thank you, John,” he answered rather dis- 
mally. “ I thought you wouldn’t mind giving a 
shelter to an old chum down on his luck. But 
mind you,” he went on, shaking a slow, fat fore- 
finger impressively as he spoke, “ I don’t mind 
taking a crust from you as a friend, seeing that, 
after all, it’s not your money at all, but Gilbert 
Wryde’s, and that he’d have helped me like a 
prince without my asking. But you understand 
that I wouldn’t be so mean as to take a bribe to 
hold my tongue if Gilbert’s son were still alive.” 

Blunt as John Bradfield habitually was, his 
bluntness was as nothing to the terribly tactless 
and blundering plain-speaking of Alfred, who 
thought he was conducting the interview with 
equal amiability and cleverness, while in reality 
every speech he uttered made John Bradfield wince, 
and filled him with an ever-growing wish that he 
dared kick his meek master. 

And so Alfred Marrable became a permanent 
guest at Wyngham House. 


CHABTER XXXII. 

A RESURRECTION. 

Encouraged by her condescension on his first 
arrival, Alfred Marrable looked forward to finding 
daily pleasure in the society of the beautiful Miss 
Abercarne. Great was his disappointment then 


A RESURRECTION. 


291 


to find that she took advantage of her position as 
a convalescent to remain entirely in her own rooms; 
so that at the end of his first fortnight at Wyng- 
ham, he had seen no more of her than at the end 
of his first day there. 

At the end of that time Chris, having obtained 
her mother’s leave to go away for a change, left 
for town one day by the morning express, to spend 
a few weeks with some friends of her mother’s in 
town. 

Her sole objects were, in the first place, to avoid 
for a little longer the inevitable meeting with Mr. 
Bradfield, and in the next to indulge a wild hope 
that she had formed of finding that Dick was still 
alive. 

Her first object was gained, of course; her sec- 
ond remained a vision for the first two months of 
her stay in London. 

Then a very strange incident recalled with great 
vividness all the associations which linked Wyng- 
ham House and Dick together in her memory. 

She was looking in the window of a picture- 
dealer in one of the side streets of the West End, 
when a little water-color drawing attracted her at- 
tention. 

It was a picture of the sea seen through the 
branches of trees, with one little white sail in the 
distance. The blood rushed to her cheeks, and her 
heart began to beat violently ; it was, she thought, 
just such a view of the sea as could be got from 
the windows of the east wing at Wyngham House, 
between the bushy boughs of the American oaks 


292 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


and the ragged trunks of the fir trees. So much 
attracted was she that on the following day she 
came by herself to look at the sketch ; and on the 
third day, being again by herself, she entered the 
shop and asked the name of the artist and the 
price of the picture. The price was a modest half- 
guinea, which Chris, resolved to do without a 
new summer hat, promptly paid. As for the 
artist’s name there was a difficulty. The man in 
the shop did not know it. All he could tell 
was that the picture was the work of a young 
man who often brought them sketches, some 
of which they bought, some of which they re- 
jected. He would probably turn up again in the 
course of a day or two, with some more work ; and 
if the young lady wished to see any more of his 
drawings, they would no doubt have some to show 
her shortly. 

Chris, full of vague imaginings, called again at 
the end of a week. They showed her some more 
sketches which they said were the work of the 
same artist, and again she was struck with a cer- 
tain sentiment in the pictures which seemed to her 
fanciful young mind to express her own feelings 
about the objects they represented. But the sub- 
jects, chiefly of sea and sky, did not arouse in her 
the same feeling of recognition as the first one had 
done. 

“ Perhaps you don’t care so much about the sea- 
pieces without a peep of landscape,” suggested the 
dealer, noticing a slight look of disappointment on 
his customer’s face, “ but we shall have some more 


A RESURRECTION. 


293 


attractive ones in a day or two, I dare say. The 
young fellow has gone down into the country, and 
I’ve given him a commission.” 

What part of the country?” asked Chris, feel- 
ing that she was blushing. 

A place called Wyngham, on the south coast, 
not far from Dover.” 

Chris felt giddy with a shock which was not all 
a surprise. She hardly knew how she got out of 
the shop nor how she reached the house cf her 
friends. But she told them that she must go back 
to her mother the very next day ; and the two ladies 
with whom she was staying, not without a little 
mischievous laughter at the girl’s expense and 
some malicious suggestions which showed them to 
be not without penetration, let her go. 

As the train bore her back to Wyngham, Chris 
seemed to be in a dream. The hope which had so 
long lain dormant in her heart had now sprung 
up into vivid life. She knew that her lover was 
alive. 

Much to her disgust, it was Mr. Bradfield who 
met her at the station. However, circumstances 
had now cleared him from the worst of the charges 
of which she had secretly accused him; if Dick 
was alive, as she believed, it was certain that John 
Bradfield had not murdered him. So John, who 
was as gruff as ever but rather shy, got a more 
civil greeting than he had ventured to hope. 

“ I’ve got the phaeton outside,” said he. Your 
mother was afraid of the dog-cart; she said you 
would be. But she was wrong, I know. You 


294 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


don’t look like an invalid; you’ve come back 
cured.” 

“Yes,” she answered, drawing a quick breath. 
“I — I am quite well now, thank you.” 

“ Any more disposed to be kind than you were, 
eh?” 

“That depends,” answ’ered Chris, whose emo- 
tion was by this time too strong for her to conceal. 

John Bradfield looked at her with curiosity. 

“ Depends on wdiat?” 

But Chris waited a moment, and then she gave 
no direct answer. 

“Tell me,” said she in a voice which trembled 
with eagerness, “ have you had any — visitors — to- 
day?” 

John Bradfield’s face grew suddenly livid. 

“ What visitors?” asked he harshly, after a 
pause. 

“ Ah ! Then you have not — yet.” 

“Why,” cried he in harsher tones than before, 
“what do you mean? Have you seen anybody?” 

He did not pretend not to know whom she meant. 
Chris looked up into his face with eyes full of elo- 
quent appeal. 

“ Mr. Bradfield, you know whom I mean. If you 
have not seen him yet, you will see him soon, I 
am sure of it.” 

“You have got up a little scene between you?” 
asked he in the same disagreeable tones. 

“ I haven’t even seen him. But I know — that he 
is coming. Mr. Bradfield, many things have hap- 
pened which I don’t understand. I don’t know 


A RESURRECTION. 


295 


how it was that you could ever think him insane. 
Didn’t you know that he was deaf and dumb?” 

John Bradfield affected to start violently. He 
had had his cue. 

“ Deaf and dumb !” he exclaimed. Are you sure? 
Surely Stelfox would have found it out. Unless, 
indeed, the cunning old rascal deceived me for fear 
of losing his place!” 

And he affected to fall into a paroxysm of rage 
against the cunning man-servant. 

“You do believe, do you not,” he went on ear- 
nestly, “ that I would have cut off my hand rather 
than commit such a shocking injustice as I seem 
to have done in all good faith?” 

Chris was at first puzzled, and at last deceived 
by his vehemence. For the last argument he put 
forward was unanswerable. 

“ What,” said he, “ had I to gain by it? He was 
the son of one of my oldest friends, and I should have 
liked nothing better than to treat him as my own. 
Now I understand the hatred the poor lad seemed 
to have for me. Of course, I always took it for 
one of the signs of insanity in him.” 

* Insensibly Chris had allowed herself to be soft- 
ened toward her companion, who had indeed suc- 
ceeded in proving to her that she had most cruelly 
misjudged him. 

He would have liked to prolong the drive, in 
order to enjoy as long as possible the sight of her 
pretty face growing prettier under, the infiuence of 
the gentle feeling of self-reproach for her treatment 
of him ; but there was work too important to be 


296 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


done at home for him to dally with the precious 
moments. 

On reaching Wyngham House, while Chris ran 
upstairs to her mother, Mr. Brad field first in- 
formed himself of the whereabouts of the incubus, 
MaiTable. On being informed that that gentle- 
man had retired to his room to rest, as he generally 
did in the afternoon to digest a very heavy lunch- 
eon in slumber, the master of the house went 
upstairs, peeped in to see that his friend was really 
asleep, and then noiselessly locked him in and 
went downstairs again. He knew that, if Gilbert 
Wryde’s son were really about, the young man 
would lose no time in making himself known to 
him. Then he went to his study, from the win- 
dow of which, as it was in front of the house, he 
could keep watch. 

As he had expected, it was not long before the 
swinging of the iron gates at the entrance of the 
drive informed him of the approach of a visitor. 
John took out the key of the cellarette he kept in 
his study, and helped himself to a wine-glass of 
brandy. 

“ And now to bluff it !” said he to himself. 

In a few minutes a servant knocked at the 
door. 

“Come in,” cried his master. 

The man’s face was white and his manner full 
of alarm. 

“ There’s a gentleman who wishes to see you, 
sir. I showed him into the drawing-room. I 
think, sir, it’s — it’s Mr. Richard,” he ended in a 


A RESURBECTION. 


297 


lower voice, as if announcing a visitor from the 
other world. 

To his astonishment, his master sprang up with 
an appearance of the greatest eagerness ; and echo- 
ing the name as if it filled him with joy, he hast- 
ened through the hall to the drawing-room, and 
entered with outstretched hands. 

Before the west window, in the full stream of 
light from the declining sun, stood the man who 
had for seventeen years been the victim of 
his cruelty and greed. It is not in human nature, 
even in the spring-time of youth, to recover in a 
few months from the effects of the confinement of 
years. Gilbert Wryde’s son showed in his pre- 
maturely gray hair, in the sharpened outlines of 
his face, in a certain indefinable look of weariness 
and waiting in his gray eyes, as well as in the 
deep lines about his mouth and eyes, the effects of 
his cruel imprisonment. 

He turned immediately when the door opened, 
and confronted John Bradfield with such a look 
that the latter instantly changed his intention of 
seizing his visitor by both hands. John felt in- 
definably that it would be like shaking hands with 
a marble statue, and he did not want any more 
chilling. He was sufficiently master of himself, 
however, to affect a boisterous delight at the 
meeting. 

“Come here, come here, sit down,” said he. 
“ Let us understand each other ; let us know each 
other. I have heard to-day such things about you 
that if you had not come of your own accord, I 


298 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


would have hunted over the world until I had found 
you.” 

But the visitor remained standing. 

“I should hardly have thought,” answered the 
young man coldly, that you would have been in 
such a hurry !” 

Mr. Bradfield thought it better for the moment 
to ignore this speech. 

“ But what is this?” exclaimed he with apparent 
solicitude. You have recovered your speech, 
your hearing ! It is miraculous !” 

“ Not quite,” answered the visitor in the same 
tone as before. “I hear, as I speak, with diffi- 
culty. But I am under treatment which, they tell 
me, would have cured me altogether if it had been 
applied earlier. I was not dumb from my birth, 
as you, no doubt, know.” 

“Richard,” said Mr. Bradfield earnestly, “don’t 
take this tone with me. You would not if you 
knew what I have suffered since it was first sug- 
gested to me, a few weeks ago, that you were not 
really insane, as I supposed.” 

“But what reason,” asked the young man, his 
voice betraying excitement for the first time, “ had 
you for thinking any such thing? Why, if you 
had got such an idea into your head, did you not 
consult some specialist on mental cases? Isn’t a 
man’s whole life, his whole happiness, worth a 
guinea fee?” 

Now, Mr. Bradfield, luckily for hirfiself , had had 
time to prepare himself for these questions. He 
knew exactly what line to take in answering them. 


A RESURRECTION. 


299 


course,” said he, ‘^you can’t really believe 
what you suggest — that it was meanness which 
prevented my doing so. When you hear all my 
reasons for thinking as I did, you will agree with 
me that I had some ground to go upon. In the 
mean time it is more to the point to tell you what 
I have been doing since Miss Abercarne (for it was 
she) expressed to me her belief you were sane.” 

The mention of the girl’s name had of course 
the desired effect of making the young man listen : 
it seemed to argue good faith on Mr. Bradfield’s 
part. 

John went on : “I caused inquiries to be set on 
foot right and left for you. I decided what I 
should do if I were lucky enough to find you.” 

The young man interrupted him : 

“ In the first place, you will tell me something 
about myself. ” 

“That,” answered John readily, “was what I 
was going to do. In the first place, you are the 
son of an old friend of mine, who died in Mel- 
bourne in poor circumstances, but who left rela- 
tions there whom you ought to find out; for I 
have reason to believe, from something I have since 
heard, that you might establish your claim to 
some property held in trust for you over there. 
Of course, under the impression that you would 
never be able to use it, I have not troubled about 
it. I am a rich man, and I was able to do all I 
could for the son of my old friend.” 

“Gilbert Wryde,” assented the young man. 
Seeing the look of surprise on John Bradfield’s 


300 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


face, he added : “ I learned that from Miss Aber- 
earne. ” 

“Well,” pursued Mr. Bradfield, “there’s only 
one thing for you to do now : you must make your 
way to Melbourne (I will supply the funds) , and 
prosecute your inquiries there. In the mean time 
I will draw a will, which you shall see, making 
you all the reparation in my power.” 

“Thank you,” said the young man, still coldly. 
“I want justice, not benevolence. I can earn 
enough for myself.” 

“But you might marry,” suggested John. 

A softer look came over the young man’s face. 
After a pause of some minutes’ duration, he said : 

“ I will consider what you have said, Mr. Brad- 
field. In the mean time I will not intrude upon 
you any longer. But I should like, before I go, 
to see Miss Abercarne for a few minutes, if,” he 
added in a gentler tone, “she will see me.” 

“Unluckily,” said John, “she’s still in London, 
where she has been staying with some friends of 
her mother’s for the last three months. But if 
you’ll give me your address, I will get Mrs. Aber- 
carne’s permission to send you her daughter’s.” 

The young man moved at once toward the door. 

“Thank you,” said he. “I will send you my 
address then. And I will let you hear from me 
again.” 

“You won’t stay to dinner?” asked Mr. Brad- 
field, feeling tolerably secure of his answer. 

“ No, thank you. There is a train back to town 
in about an hour. Good-afternoon.” 


A LOVE-SCENE. 


aoi 


And he left the room without another word. 

Mr. Bradfield followed him out, and saw him 
go through the iron gate at the end of the drive. 
Then he went back into the study, and passed his 
hand with a gesture of relief across his forehead. 

“ Saved !” muttered he. Safe for a few hours. 
What must be the next move?” 


CHAPTER XXXIII. 

A LOVE-SCENE. 

Although Mr. Bradfield kept close watch from 
the study-window, and saw Gilbert Wryde’s son 
safely out of the grounds, he was no more of a 
match than other astute middle-aged persons have 
been for the wiles of a pair of lovers. 

Richard Wryde, although he had let himself be 
“ talked over” by Mr. Bradfield, was not quite so 
simple as his guardian supposed. Before he was 
out of the house, therefore, it had occurred to him 
to doubt whether Mr. Bradfield’s information 
about Chris were correct. It was at any rate 
worth while, he thought, to make the tour of the 
eastern side of the grounds on the outer side of 
the wall, and then to saunter past the sea front of 
the mansion, keeping a careful eye on the windows. 

And when he was within sight of the window 
of the Chinese room, he was rewarded for his per- 
spicacity by the sight of Chris, engaged in her 
favorite occupation of looking out at the sea. 


302 


A PERFECT FOOL, 


She saw him in a moment, without his having 
to exert himself to attract her attention. He saw 
her spring up, clasping her hands. And he knew 
that all he had to do was to wait for her to come 
to him. 

He went back therefore toward the east end of 
the house, so that the trees might hide him from 
the curious eyes within. In a few minutes Mr. 
Bradfield heard the creaking of the gate again. 
He got up and looked out ; but Chris had gone 
through like an arrow, and he saw no one. 

When she was once outside the gates, however, 
shyness^ excitement, one does not know what, 
stayed her flying feet and brought a flutter to her 
heart. And when she caught sight of Dick, as he 
came round the angle of the wall to meet her, she 
stopped altogether. 

Dick was timid too. It seemed to him, as it 
seemed to her, that the happiness at their lips was 
too great, that the cup must be dashed away be- 
fore the draught was taken. The man, of course, 
recovered first from the stupor of joy following 
weeks of longing. Chris, with her eyes upon the 
ground, felt a hand on her shoulder, a warm breath 
upon her face. 

“You are glad to see me?. Then tell me so.” 

She looked up suddenly, saw in place of the 
wistful face she remembered eyes full of the fire 
of recovered light, of youth renewed. Her lover 
was no longer the deaf and dumb recluse; he was 
as other men are, but with a charm of gentleness, 
of sadness past but remembered, which made him 


A LOVE-SCENE, 


303 


infinitely more attractive in her eyes than any 
other man could ever be. 

“I am so glad,” she whispered, “that I hardly 
dare to speak for fear I should cry !” 

And, with a sob she tried hard to suppress, she 
brought out from under her cloak, and held out 
toward him, the little sketch of the sea between the 
trees of Wyngham House. 

“ When I saw this,” she said brokenly, “ I knew, 
oh, I knew that you were alive. But you might 
have let me know before. For I have been so 
miserable I wanted to die !” 

Her lover took her in his arms ; they were under 
the trees on one side, and in the shelter of the 
high wall of Wyngham House on the other; and 
in words a little old-fashioned, a little more fanci- 
ful than the modern lover of every day dares to 
use, he told her of the light which the sight of hei 
from his prison windows had brought into his life, 
of the new energy she had unconsciously put into 
him, of the longing he had felt to stand beside her 
and to feel the touch of her hand. 

“Before you came here,” he said, pouring his 
words into her willing ears with an impetuosity 
which in truth made him well-nigh unintelligible, 
“ Stelfox did not dare to let me out of the room*i 
in which I was kept, even for ten minutes. He 
had tried it once, not long ago, and he had only 
with great difficulty prevented me from attacking 
that old rascal Bradfield. But when you came, I 
became at once a different man. I thought no 
more of Bradfield, or of anybody but you — always 


304 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


you. I lost the dead, sullen patience that my con- 
finement had taught me; I raged like a wild beast 
shut up for the first time. When I saw Bradfield 
touch you, as he did that day under my windows, 
on purpose, I believe, to provoke me, I lost my 
self-command, and threw at him the first thing 
that came to my hand. You remember, I dare 
say, I smashed the window, and nearly frightened 
you out of your senses. Then Stelfox gave me a 
lecture which made me ill, really ill, with misery 
and want of sleep, for two or three days and 
nights. 

“ He told me that I had frightened you so much 
that you would never come near my windows 
again; that you thought my savage attack was 
upon yourself, and that in all probability you 
would not dare to stay at Wyngham afterward. 
So that at last I became so wretched that he had 
to be merciful, and to tell me that you were not 
going to leave Wyngham and that he Avould con- 
trive for me to see you again. 

“ In the mean time, however, I overheard some- 
thing said by the men working in the garden 
which told me that Bradfield himself was in love 
with you. This, indeed, I had already guessed. 
But to hear it confirmed made me so furious that 
I contrived to pick the lock of my outer door and 
to get out, with the fixed intention of braining the 
brute or at least of doing him some severe injury, 
if I got the chance. I saw him go out, on foot, 
across the meadows for a walk. I lost sight of 
him behind the shrubbery; so I thought I would 


A LOVE-SCENE. 


305 


hide among the farm-buildings until he came 
back. I found the barn door unlocked, so I hid 
myself in there; and presently you came in, as 
you know. I can’t tell you how I felt. At first 
it made me giddy to be near you. It seemed as if 
my brain would burst, as if I must cry aloud or 
shout for the very joy of looking into your eyes. 
When your hand touched mine — it was when you 
put out your hand to take the lantern, I think — I 
felt a joy so keen that it was almost like the pain 
of a stab. When I put my hand over your mouth 
so that you should not scream, it was almost more 
than I could do not to kiss you, as I do now.” 

He pressed his lips again and again to hers, with 
a passionate vehemence which almost frightened 
Chris, accustomed as she was to the utmost gen- 
tleness on his part. She tried to draw herself out 
of his arms, but with a sudden change from pas- 
sion to wistful tenderness, he partly released her, 
and drew her hands against his breast with a mel- 
ancholy smile. 

“ I am a savage !” he exclaimed. ‘‘ I have fright- 
ened you. Let me at least hold your hands ; I will 
not hurt them. I will hold them like this.” 

He relaxed the grasp in which he had held her 
fingers, and she let her hands lie lightly in his as 
he went on : 

“You must civilize me. And don’t be afraid. 
The block is very rough, but your skill is very 
great.” 

As he bent his head to kiss her hands very gen- 
tly, Chris felt that he was trembling. 

20 


306 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“ I want to ask yon something,” said Chris tim- 
idly. “ Those cries, those strange cries you gave 
— that evening in the barn! And your strange 
silence too! I don’t understand. Why didn’t 
you speak to me?” 

“ I was stone-deaf, you know ; I had been so ever 
since I was a small child, when I had scarlet fever 
badly. It left me absolutely without hearing so 
that I could not hear the sound of my own voice.” 

“Yes, yes, but you could speak!” 

“ I had learned to talk when I was a child, but 
under the treatment of the brute who calls himself 
my guardian, I had forgotten how. I had got into 
the way of making cries and noises like a person 
deaf and dumb from birth.” 

“ But you could speak, for you spoke to me on 
Christmas Day!” 

“Yes. But that is a long story. It was Stel- 
fox who found out, four or five years ago, that I 
was neither dumb nor insane, and with great pa- 
tience he taught me what I had almost forgotten, 
how to speak again. Bat I did not dare to speak 
to you, because, as I tell you, I could not hear my- 
self ; I had only spoken to Stelfox for years ; I dis- 
trusted my own powers. When I made the strange 
cries which frightened you, I was not conscious 
of it myself. You see, it is true that I am a sav- 
age.” 

Chris, seeing that the avowals he had been mak- 
ing caused him pain and bitter mortification, took 
his hands, and raising them to her face, laid them 
tenderly against her cheek. 


A LOVE-SCENE, 


307 


“That is a trouble you will have no more,” she 
said softly. “ And you can hear now, can you not?” 

“ I can hear fairly well on one side now,” he an- 
swered. “ I can hear some days better than others. 
I am under treatment by one of the great London 
aurists. He says that if I had been brought to 
him sooner he could have cured me completely ; as 
it is, the hearing in the right ear is completely 
gone, and in the left it is permanently impaired.” 

Chris began to sob, and Dick had to comfort her. 

“ Don’t, don’t cry, my darling. I shall make you 
as melancholy as myself if I don’t take care; you, 
who used to be all life and brightness.” 

“I haven’t been very lively since you went 
away,” answered Chris. “I have been very ill. 
I thought you were dead !” And she shuddered. 
“ I thought I saw you carried out — dead — over the 
grass — hanging over a man’s shoulder!” 

“ I was carried over a man’s shoulder, I believe, 
only I wasn’t dead,” answered Dick simply. “It 
was Stelfox’s doing.” 

Chris looked puzzled. 

“It was in the evening of the day that they 
found out I had been writing to you,” said she. 
“ Had that anything to do with it?” 

Dick listened with interest. 

“ Everything,! should think,” he answered dryly. 
“ Stelfox’s account is that he found me lying on 
the sofa, insensible, when he came in to clear away 
the dessert on that evening. He examined the de- 
canters on the table, and finding that I had drunk 
very little wine, came to the conclusion that what 


308 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


little I had taken had been tampered with. He 
succeeded in rousing me, but left me for the night 
in such a drowsy condition that he came back 
again, after I was in bed, to find out if I was all 
right. His suspicions were then aroused by find- 
ing that some one had been in the room, so he woke 
me with difficulty, told me to dress, and made me 
go downstairs.” 

‘‘Ah!” interrupted Chris quickly. “That was 
what I heard, what I almost saw. Well, what 
then?” 

Dick went on : 

“ By the time we got downstairs I had grown so 
drowsy that when he left me for the minute I 
tumbled off to sleep again. He had no idea, he 
said, at that time of going farther with me than 
the garden, where he thought the fresh air would 
revive me, while he went upstairs again to make 
investigations. But my continued drowsiness 
alarmed him so much that he thought it best to 
take me first at once into the open air. When we 
had got outside, however, he found that I was 
again in a state of stupor, so he lifted me up and 
carried me bodily across the garden toward the 
beach, where he thought that he could revive me 
effectually by splashing the sea-water in my face. 
In the mean time he saw smoke and flames coming 
from the east wing, and at once made up his mind 
that I could not go back. He left me, therefore, 
having brought me to myself, while he borrowed 
a horse and cart from a man he knew; driving 
slowly and resting frequently, so as to spin out the 


A LOVE-SCENE. 


309 


time, we went toward Ashford, where we arrived 
in plenty of time for him to put me into the first 
morning train for London. He telegraphed to a 
brother of his to meet me, and he returned himself 
to Wyngham in time to escape awkward ques- 
tions, for in the commotion caused by the fire he 
had not been missed.” 

“I don’t understand Stelfox,” said Chris doubt- 
fully. “I have never been able to make out 
whether he was a good man who was sorry for you 
and was kind to you, or a bad one who found it to 
his interest to serve Mr. Bradfield in his wicked 
treatment of j^ou.” 

“You’d better ask him,” said Dick, smiling. 
“But he says he doesn’t know himself. Any- 
how, he’s been a good friend to me. There is no 
piece of good fortune, from my recovery of speech 
down to my escape, that I do not owe to him. So 
when he tells me not to look too closely into his 
motives, I take care to humor him.” 

“But I should like to understand,” persisted 
Chris. “ He could have let you out long ago if he 
had liked then !” 

“ He says it would noi have paid either him or 
me. He wanted me to remain here until he had 
succeeded in finding out who I was, and what that 
rascal Bradfield ’s motive was in keeping me shut 
up. But he hasn’t been able to find out yet, and 
beyond the fact that I now know my surname, a 
piece of information which I owe to you, I am as 
much in the dark as I was when he first shut me 
up, when I was a little boy.” 


310 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Chris mused for a few minutes without speak- 
ing. Then she said, half to herself : 

“ I wonder whether Mr. Marrable could help us.” 
Then in a different tone: “Won’t you see Mr. 
Bradfield ? W on’t you ask him for an explanation ? 
He has been kind to mamma and me; I don’t want 
to think that he is so wicked as to have known 
that you were sane ! And yet ” 

She thought of the drugged wine, of the fire, 
and she shuddered. Dick interrupted her. 

“I have seen him,” he said shortly. “I have 
asked for an explanation. But he will give none — 
at least, none to satisfy me.” 

“And you’re going to rest satisfied not to be 
satisfied?” cried Chris almost with indignation. 

“ I don’t know what I shall do. At present I 
am going back to town. I had some work to do 
here — ” he touched the little sketch which she 
still held in her hand. “ My pastime in the days 
of my captivity has become something more than 
a pastime now. I had undertaken to make a series 
of sketches of the sea and shore down here for a 
dealer ” 

“ Yes, yes, I know. I have found that out,” 
said Chris, blushing at his look of tender sur- 
prise. 

He kissed her again, as he went on: “But I 
have found that I must see my cunning old Stelfox 
first, and tell him what Bradfield has said. Know- 
ing the man better than I do, he may understand 
better than I Bradfield’s motive for behaving gen- 
erously.” 


A LOVE-SCENE. 


311 


“Behaving generously?” echoed Chris interrog- 
atively. 

“Yes, he will pay my passage out to Melbourne 
to make inquiries in regard to some property which 
he believes has been left to me.” 

“Then don’t go,” cried Chris impulsively. 
“You have had no reason for trusting him before; 
why should you trust him now?” 

Dick hesitated. 

“ It does seem rather a slender chance of for- 
tune, doesn’t it?” he said at last. “But it’s the 
only one I have. Remember, I not only have to 
live, but I want to keep a wife too.” She bent 
her head, but he heard a little sigh which had 
no sorrow in it. “Now I can just keep myself 
by my sketches; I can do nothing else, and I 
shouldn’t like to see you in anything but pretty 
frocks.” 

“I believe,” said Chris solemnly, jumping to a 
conclusion, “that Mr. Bradfield has got some 
money belonging to you. For they say that your 
father was a rich man.” 

Dick looked thoughtful, but not hopeful. Little 
opportunity as he had had of knowing the world, 
he guessed that it would require superhuman en- 
ergy to set the law in motion to make a rich man 
disgorge for the benefit of a poor one. For he was 
too ignorant to know that he could attack Capital, 
in the person of Mr. Bradfield, by invoking the 
great god Labor. It did not occur to him, there- 
fore, that a smart solicitor could make a fortune, 
both for himself and his client, by bringing an ac- 


312 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


tion against John Bradfiekl, the rich man who had 
oppressed the poor one. 

“ I couldn’t prove it, even if it were true. And 
I know nothing of the kind,” said he. 

Then Chris had another inspiration. 

“You ought to consult a lawyer,” said she 
promptly. 

The suggestion was so obviously a good one that 
Dick agreed to this. And then their talk began 
to drift from the realms of fact to the pleasanter 
paths of feeling and fancy, and was carried on 
chiefly in whispers, and in sentences which had 
no beginnings and no endings. 


CHAPTER XXXIV. 

MASTER OF THE SITUATION. 

While John Bradfleld still sat in his study, 
turning over the papers from a locked drawer in 
his desk, tearing up some and carefully putting 
aside others, he heard again the creaking of the 
gate, and looking out, saw in the dusk which had 
now fallen, a figure which seemed familiar to him. 
It disappeared at once by the lodge, and Mr. Brad- 
field, after waiting a few minutes in vain watch- 
ing for its return, rang the bell, and asked whether 
any one had come in by the back way during the 
past few minutes. The servant said he thought 
not, but he would inquire; and he returned a few 
moments later to say that no one had come in. 


MASTER OF THE SITUATION. 


313 


Mr. Bradfield did not feel satisfied, although he 
gave no sign of his dissatisfaction. 

“ I could have sworn it was Stelfox !” said he to 
himself as he again looked out of the window. 

This time he saw another figure whom there 
was no mistaking. The blood mounted to his head 
as he saw that it was Chris Abercarne, who was 
walking quickly back into the house. He was 
hard pressed for time, working among the papers 
with something of the feeling of a fox that bur- 
rows in the ground when the hounds are within 
hearing. But he felt that he must spare a mo- 
ment to speak to her. 

Chris was startled by the change which had 
come upon him since he drove her from the station. 
She knew of his interview with Dick, and seen by 
the light of that knowledge, his face betrayed more 
than he could guess. The frown on it was not one 
of anger; it was the harassed, worried frown of 
a hunted man. And her indignation against him 
changed in a moment to pity; her face softened. 

“You have been talking to — Richard, I sup- 
pose?” said he shortly, almost rudely, pronounc- 
ing the name with an effort. 

“Yes,” answered Chris gently. 

“You’re in love with him, or fancy you are, of 
course?” pursued he harshly. 

Chris admitted that too. 

“And you think I’ve ill-treated him, no doubt?” 

The young girl’s face changed suddenly. She 
looked so sad, so wistful that he was touched. 

“ I — I hope not, oh, I hope not !” 


314 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


“ What do you mean?” 

“I mean that you have been so kind to my 
mother and me that — that ” 

“ Well, that what?” said he, not looking at her, 
and trying to speak as gruffly as ever. 

That I shouldn’t like to think ” 

She paused again, and there was silence on both 
sides for a minute or two. Chris was looking wdth 
wide eyes at the back of his head, wondering with 
all her might whether it were possible for a man, 
a real man, one too by no means without the milk 
of human kindness as far as most people were con- 
cerned, to be guilty of the crimes which seemed 
to have been brought home to him. 

John Bradfield, for his part, had been flung, all 
in a moment, into a sentimental mood. He had 
truly loved this girl, in his own way, which was 
not perhaps the highest way, but still in a manner 
not to be altogether despised, except by a woman 
who was entirely absorbed in love for somebody 
else. Now he had got to lose her altogether; to 
lose even that faint hope of holding her some day 
in his arms which he had nursed side by side with 
some particularly cruel and selfish designs upon 
her favored lover. For a moment he felt as if he 
must break down in some sort of confession, per- 
haps some sort of appeal. Then the sterner stuff 
in him hardened, and saying only, ‘‘Go along 
with you,” he made way for her to pass him on 
her way upstairs. 

Then, with one look after her, one sigh, he dis- 
missed her absolutely from his mind, and gave 


MASTER OF THE SITUATION. 


315 


himself up to the serious dangers of the moment, 
and the way to escape them. For he did not de- 
ceive himself ; he knew that the cordon was clos- 
ing round him, that before long the outposts would 
close in, and the chain of evidence, each link of 
which was now in the possession of a different 
person, would be complete against him. It only 
wanted the garrulous and untrustworthy Marrable 
to be questioned by either Stelfox, or Richard, or 
even Chris, for it to become known that the for- 
tune that he, Bradfield, had been enjoying, was 
that left by Gilbert Wryde to him in trust for 
Richard, Gilbert’s son. 

If this had been all the story, John Bradfield 
might have got off lightly. But the comparing of 
notes would lead not only to the discovery of the 
fraud he had practised, but of the infamous means 
by which he had maintained it. Then there was 
that little matter of Richard’s disappearance at the 
time of the fire. What did Stelfox know? Brad- 
field, who had mistrusted the man for some time, 
but who had doubted the advisability of trying to 
‘‘ square” him, now wished that he had done so. 
However, it was too late to spend the time in re- 
grets; and Mr. Bradfield went straight back to his 
study and, drawing down the blinds and locking 
the doors, proceeded to unlock a safe which had 
been built into the wall in one corner of the 
room. 

As he took out from some tin boxes inside sev- 
eral bundles of papers, he smiled to himself with 
considerable malicious satisfaction. He took the 


316 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


papers to his desk, brought from a cupboard a 
strong leather travelling-bag, and, with just a lov- 
ing glance at the papers which showed that he was 
too familiar with their exact contents to do more, 
he thrust them into the bottom of the bag, which 
he then carefully locked, putting the key in his 
pocket. 

While enjoying to the full the pleasures of his 
quiet country life and of his beautiful mansion, 
the astute northerner had never lost sight of the 
fact that he might not be able to enjoy them for- 
ever. He had therefore made a provision against 
discovery by opening an account, to the extent of 
some thousands in each case, with several banks 
on the Continent and in that paradise of unrepent- 
ant thieves, South America. As long, therefore, 
as he could keep out of the hands of the police, it 
would go hard with him if he found himself with- 
out the sinews of war. The papers in the precious 
bag, which for the last few weeks he had kept al- 
ways near at hand, consisted of securities easily 
realizable, and of the means of establishing his iden- 
tity with the person who had opened the banking 
accounts above mentioned. 

With the bag in his hand, John Bradfield un- 
locked and opened his study-door softly, looked 
out, and listened. The person he most feared was 
Stelfox, in whom he recognized a mind as astute 
as his own ; and he had a strong suspicion, in spite 
of the footman’s assurance to the contrary, that 
"Stelfox had, within the last hour, secretly entered 
the house. John Bradfield felt that he must not 


3IASTER OF THE SITUATION. 


317 


only escape, but that he must escape without Stel- 
fox’s knowledge. 

He went softly upstairs, the thick carpets alto- 
gether deadening the sound of his footsteps, reached 
his bedroom, and packed in a Gladstone bag such 
things as were strictly necessary for a sudden 
journey ; a change of clothes, some linen, the book 
he was reading. He was also careful to put in 
his favorite opera-glasses, being determined to take 
his journey not like a fugitive^ but like a man of 
pleasure. 

Then he left his bedroom as quietly and watch- 
fully as he had entered it, and, going to the door 
of Marrable’s room, listened for a few moments 
before going downstairs. He had not stood there 
for half a dozen seconds before the expression of 
his face changed from one of attention to one of 
mingled excitement and delight. 

For Marrable, whom he had locked in asleep, 
was now awake, and talking — talking in his wan- 
dering and foolish manner, but with unusual em- 
phasis and excitement. 

And the answering voice was Stelfox’s. 

Here was a bit of luck indeed. The cunning 
Stelfox had found his way to the very person who 
could give him all the information he wanted, and 
was now doubtless in the act of extracting it from 
his talkative companion. And when he unlocked 
the door of Marrable’s room and went in, he had 
left the key outside ! 

Mr. Bradfield softly turned the key in the lock. 
Then, going quickly to his work-shop, which waa 


318 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


only a few yards away, he returned with a pair 
of nippers, and mounting on a chair, he neatly 
snipped the bell-wire in two. 

“Now,” said he to himself, “when they find 
they’re locked in, they will ring the bell, and no- 
body will come. And that door will stand a good 
many kicks. ” 

He looked at his watch as he ran quickly down- 
stairs, and slipped out of the house without meet- 
ing anybody. 

“ I can get a cab at the stand,” thought he. “ I 
shall just have time to catch the train. I shall 
book to London, but I shall get out at Ashford, 
and go to Queenboro and on to Flushing. That’s 
just the last thing I should be expected to do. So 
that if Stelfox has been fool enough to chum up 
with the police on his lunatic’s behalf, I can give 
them leg-bail easily.” 


CHAPTER XXXV. 

STELFOX IS RETICENT NO LONGER. 

Mr. Bradfield awoke on the morning after 
his abrupt departure from Wyngham, with a start 
of surprise at finding himself in a strange place. 

He had been troubled by no pangs of a guilty 
conscience, not even by fears of an imaginary pur- 
suer. Accusations might be made against him 
certainly, some of which could be supported by 
evidence which might weigh heavily with a judge 


STELFOX IS RETICENT NO LONGER, 319 

and jury. But the real foundation of his misdeeds 
was one so astounding, requiring so much digging 
and delving before a good case could be made out, 
that he might have remained securely at Wyngham 
for months to come — might almost indeed have de- 
fied Dick and the law to do their worst — if it had 
not been for Stelfox. 

What Stelfox knew his late master was not 
quite sure of; but the man’s respectful reticence 
during long years, during which his suspicions of 
foul play had grown into certainties, had so strongly 
impressed the master that Mr. Bradfield had never 
felt safe since Stelfox had left his service. 

So that Mr. Bradfield, for whom W3mgham 
House and its treasures had lost the charm of nov- 
elty, had thought it safest as well as pleasantest to 
decamp, leaving only the bare bones of his stolen 
property to be wrangled over in litigation. 

What had woke him he did not know. He 
seemed to have jumped from the deepest, sweetest 
slumber into broad wakefulness. He looked out 
at the sky, which he could just see between the 
white dimity curtains of fche window ; and he saw 
a bright little line of light which showed him that 
the summer sun was already high in the heavens. 
He looked at the foot of the bed, and saw, instead 
of the brass and beaten iron-work of his own mag- 
nificent bedstead, the polished mahogany of the 
old-fashioned four-poster. Then he remembered 
where he was, heaved a sigh of satisfaction at hav- 
ing left the anxieties of W^mgham behind him, 
and turned over in bed for another doze. 


320 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Then he saw what it was that had woke him ; 
standing beside his bedside, as respectfully as ever, 
was Stelfox. Then Mr. Bradfield felt that the way 
of the transgressor is indeed hard. He sat up in 
bed, and tried to look merely surprised. 

“Hello, Stelfox, is that you?” he said boister- 
ously. 

“Yes, sir, it is I,” answered Stelfox, who was 
always correct. 

“ Well, and what are you doing here? Nothing 
happened, I hope?” 

He was not yet quite warmed to the world and 
its doings, so, although he was undoubtedly an- 
noyed and alarmed by the appearance of his late 
servant, he did not quite appreciate the full signifi- 
cance of this singular intrusion. 

“ Well, sir, I can’t exactly say that nothing has 
happened,” said Stelfox, still looking down. “I 
came down from London to Wyngham yesterday 
afternoon, sir, to see you. But I saw Mr. Marra- 
ble instead, sir.” 

All this was said quite simply. But when his 
speech was finished, Stelfox came rather to a sud- 
den stop, a nasty, significant stop. 

“Mr. Marrable! Oh, yes,” said Mr. Bradfield, 
assuming more cheerfulness of speech as his 
thoughts lost it. 

“ He told me, sir, about the will made by Mr. 
Gilbert Wryde.” 

“Well, what has that to do with me?” 

“Well, sir, it has a good deal to do with you, 
now that Mr. Richard is of age and proved to be 


STELFOX IS RETICENT NO LONGER. 321 

sane, I think. For of course he ought to come into 
his property.” 

There was a pause. For the thousand-and-first 
time Mr. Bradfield was asking himself whether 
this was a man to be bribed. He decided that at 
this stage of affairs the experiment must be tried. 

Look here, Stelfox,” said he. “ You’re an hon- 
est man, and you want to see justice done to every- 
body, I’m sure.” 

“I do, sir,” said Stelfox modestly. 

And, in consideration of the fact that I’ve not 
been a bad master to you or an ungenerous one for 
ten ears, you would like, I am sure, to see justice 
done to me too?” 

‘^I should, sir,” answered Stelfox readily, but in 
a manner which left Mr. Bradfield to doubt whether 
the infiection of his voice was not nasty.” 

Well, then,” pursued Mr. Bradfield, ‘‘ see. Mr. 
Wryde, Master Richard’s father, left me a large 
sum — you see I don’t deny it was a large sum — in 
trust for his idiot son.” 

But here Stelfox at last looked up. 

“ Idiot son, sir !” he interrupted promptly. But 
Mr. Marrable assures me that, so far from being 
an idiot. Master Richard was considered a very 
bright child, even after the scarlet fever had made 
him deaf.” 

“Mr. Marrable assures you! But what’s Mr. 
Marrable? An idiot himself!” interrupted Mr. 
Bradfield impatiently. 

“And,” went on Stelfox steadily, not heeding 
the interruptign, “ he says he knows if was old Mr, 
21 


322 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


Wryde’s intention to take or send his little son to 
England, as it was thought the hearing could be 
restored. Indeed, sir,” pursued he with uncanny 
smoothness, Mr. Richard has recovered his hear- 
ing in a wonderful manner since he has been in 
London, and under the care of a specialist, sir.” 

Here Mr. Bradfield broke out with sudden sharp- 
ness: 

“ Oh, oh ! so he’s been with you in London, has 
he?” 

His tone was by this time so frankly inimical 
that Stelfox answered boldly : 

Why, yes, sir ; it was natural for him to stay 
with the only friends he had.” 

“Then you helped him to get away, I sup- 
pose?” 

“Yes, sir, after I discovered the drugged wine. 
I’ve kept it, sir — kept the decanters just as they 
were left that night. I thought they might be 
wanted perhaps, especially after the fire, sir.” 

This was frankness indeed. Mr. Bradfield 
changed color. 

“Do you mean to insinuate that I wanted to 
make away with the fellow?” he asked abruptly. 

“ I only mean, sir, that I thought what I could 
prove about the decanters that night; and what 
Miss Abercarne could prove about having seen you 
come out of the east wing just before the fire; and 
what Mr. Marrable could prove about old Mr. 
Wryde’s intentions, and what the will itself could 
prove about the way you carried them out — I 
thought, I say, sir, that all these things together 


STELFOX IS RETICENT NO LONGER, 323 


might form a very good case, and that with a clever 
lawyer at his back he might hope to recover his 
property.” 

As each fresh charge was mentioned, John Brad- 
field’s frown grew deeper, and the lines about his 
mouth grew harder and more unyielding. At the 
end he turned his head, and sought the man’s eye 
steadily. And the man at last looked steadily at 
him. 

“And what, if it is not too straightforward a 
question, what share were you to have in the final 
distribution?” 

“Well, sir,” answered the man, straightfor- 
wardly and in exactly in the same tone as before, 
“ I may say that I expected not to be forgotten.” 

“Ah, ha,” chuckled Mr. Bradfield triumphantly. 
“ I thought not. Now we’re coming to it. Now 
I’m going abroad, as you see. I don’t admit the 
truth of a single one of these accusations — not a 
single one, mind. But I see you could make out 
a very plausible tale, for you’re a clever fellow, 
Stelfox, and I see I could be worried to death and 
half-ruined besides before the thing was settled. 
So look here ; tell me what you want to keep your 
d — d mouth shut.” 

Stelfox went on quite placidly, as if the manner 
in which the command was given had been rather 
battering than otherwise : “ I want you, sir, to do 
the right thing by Master Richard. I am sure, 
sir, begging your pardon for having to say such a 
thing, that he will not be too particular in the mat- 
ter of looking into past accounts.” 


324 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


But Mr. Bradfield’s not too sweet temper had 
been rising, and at these words he gave it 
vent. 

“D — n your impudence!” roared he, glaring at 
the man with so much ferocity that even the calm 
Stelfox moved a step nearer to the foot of the bed. 
“ Do you think I’m going to be mastered by you, 
or that escaped whelp? No. D — n you both for 
a couple of accomplices who want to rob me ! You 
can go to the d — 1, both of you, and I’ll be d — d if 
either of you shall get a penny out of me. Get 
out of my sight, or I’ll have the landlord prose- 
cuted for allowing you to come in !” 

Rather to his surprise, Stelfox withdrew at once 
in exactly the same manner as if he had only come 
in to bring the gentleman’s shaving-water. Mr. 
Bradfield, breathing heavily from rage and excite- 
ment, got up, turned the key in the lock, and be- 
gan to dress. 

He was in a passion still, so indignant with Stel- 
fox for refusing to be bribed that he quite felt that 
he was an injured person. He told himself, how- 
ever, with a chuckle, when he had got a little 
cooler, that neither Stelfox nor anybody else could 
prevent him crossing to Flushing by the next boat, 
and getting out of jurisdiction before matters had 
got far enough for a warrant to be issued for him. 
At the same time there was just a little undercur- 
rent of anxiety in his mind, the result of the ex- 
treme promptitude with which the cunning Stelfox 
had traced him out, and the astuteness with which 
he had framed an excuse to induce the attendants 


VICTORY. 


325 


at the hotel to show him up to the room of the gen- 
tleman he asked for. 

But how on earth did he get in? Mr. Bradfield 
asked himself, remembering that he had locked his 
door before going to bed. On examination, how. 
ever, the lock had proved to be defective, so that 
Stelfox had found his entry easy. 

By this time Mr. Bradfield was fully dressed, 
and he turned to the head of the bed where, under 
the damask curtain, he had hidden his precious 
bag of securities on the previous night. 

The bag was no longer there. 


CHAPTER XXXVI. 

VICTORY. 

Stupefaction, terrible, absolute, fell for one 
moment upon Mr. Bradfield- He thought not of 
common thieves ; it was borne upon him at once, 
with irresistible force, that the theft was the work 
of Stelfox. Ringing the bell violently, and not 
waiting for it to be answered, he ran downstairs, 
telling the waiters, the boots, and every one he met 
to “ stop that man !” 

At first they did not take in the sense of this in- 
junction, but w'hen they did, they explained that 
the man, who had represented himself to be Mr. 
Bradfield ’s servant, had just caught the train back 
to Wyngham. For it appeared that Stelfox had 


326 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


made no secret either of his own name, or of his 
master’s, or of his destination. 

“My bag! My b — b — bag!” stammered Mr. 
Bradfield. “ He’s a thief! he’s stolen it!” 

At once a little group collected round the excited 
man, and the proprietor of the hotel, coming for- 
ward, at once ordered the boots to run to the sta- 
tion and telegraph a description of the man, so that 
he might be stopped. For indeed more than one 
person remembered that he had gone upstairs with- 
out a bag and returned having one. 

But this order was scarcely given when Mr. 
Bradfield, turning suddenly more ghastly white 
than before, changed his mind and his tactics. 

“ No, no, ” stammered he. “ Don’t do that ; wait 
a bit.” 

At the same moment a maid came running out 
of the bar with a note which, she said, had been 
left for the gentleman by the man who called him- 
self his servant. 

Mr. Bradfield, opening the envelope with clammy 
fingers, read the following words: 

“Sir: 

“ I beg respectfully to say that I have taken your 
bag back to Wyngham House for you, as I am 
sure that you will want it when you return, as I 
hope you will do in the course of the day. I can 
undertake to say that a satisfactory settlement will 
be arrived at if you should think proper to meet 
Mr. Richard Wryde and his lawyer, who will be 
there to meet you. I am, sir, 

“ Your obedient servant, 

“James Stelfox.” 


VICTORY, 


327 


Mr. Bradfield’s head swam. The events which 
he had been leading so beautifully up to this mo- 
ment had turned upon him, overwhelmed him, 
and were now carrying him away in their rush. 
A few moments’ redection convinced him that he 
must now go with the tide. 

While still looking at the note he recovered him- 
self, and explaining hurriedly that he had made a 
mistake, and that it was all right, he paid his bill, 
walked to the station, and inquired the time of the 
next train to Wyngham. 

Mr. Bradfield had been beaten at his own game 
of bluff.” Fcr undoubtedly, as he had said to 
Stelfox, the case against him, strong though it 
was, would have taken time and money in abun- 
dance to prove. In the mean while, if he had not 
lost nerve at the last, he could have turned the 
tables on Stelfox by accusing that astute person of 
stealing his bag. 

But the contents of that bag were so incriminat- 
ing that he decided that any arrangement would 
now be better than coming into court. 

It was rather startling, however, for the poor 
man to find, on alighting at Wyngham station, 
the persistent and wily Stelfox waiting on the 
platform to meet him. Of course the new master 
saluted the old master as respectfully as ever. 

“ I thought you would be coming by this train, 
sir,” said he, “so I took the liberty of telling Wil- 
liams to bring the phaeton round. It’s waiting 
outside, sir.” 

Mr. Bradfield was not grateful for this attention. 


328 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


He nodded, strode sullenly through the station, 
and drove home at a rapid pace. He wanted to 
get the whole business over as speedily as possible. 
Stelfox followed in a cab. 

Wyngham House looked curiously different in 
his eyes from the mansion he had left — as he then 
supposed, forever — on the previous night. And yet 
nothing about it was changed ; it was the eye which 
looked upon it that had undergone a transforma- 
tion. The footman who let him in knew something, 
perhaps, but he was careful to look as if he did not, 
this being an art in which all well-bred servants 
are proficient. But the man’s first words sent a 
shudder down John Bradfield’s back: 

‘^Mr. Wryde is in the drawing-room, sir.” 

The change of name spoke volumes to begin 
with. “Mr. Richard” was now “Mr. Wryde.” 

John went straight to the drawing-room, and 
walked in with a sullen face. His day was over, 
but he could “ die game.” He found not only his 
late ward, but Mrs. Abercarne, her daughter, and 
a gentleman of unmistakably legal aspect. There 
was a little flutter on his entrance, but he at once 
perceived that matters were to be made as pleasant 
for him as the circumstances allowed. Thus, 
Richard came forward, and although he did not 
shake hands with him, he introduced Mr. Reynolds, 
“of the firm of Reynolds & Parkinson,” in a tone 
less cold, less hostile than that he had assumed on 
the preceding day. 

And yet in the mean time Richard had become 
acquainted through Marrable, who on the an- 


VICTORY. 


329 


nouncement of Bradfield’s arrival had tried to hide 
himself behind the window-curtains, of the mon- 
strous breach of trust by which John Bradfield the 
pauper had become John Bradfield the millionaire 
at his expense. The reason for this change in de- 
meanor Avas simple enough; the human mind 
admires vastness; it is easily impressed — nay, 
abashed — by undertakings carried on with magnifi- 
cence, with completeness. If a man steals our 
watch or a purse containing sixpence, we seize him, 
and hold him until a policeman comes up; if he 
cheats us out of a thousand pounds by inducing us to 
take shares in a worthless company, we proceed 
against him respectfully by lawsuit, which may end 
in our discomfiture instead of his. So that Richard, 
overwhelmed by the greatness of the crime, felt 
almost more bewildered than indignant in the 
presence of the criminal. 

John Bradfield had the wit to recognize this, and 
it cleared the way to an understanding. He pro- 
ceeded to assure both the lawyer and his client that 
he had only held Gilbert Wryde’s money in trust, 
and had used it in the belief that Richard was in- 
sane. Now, finding that he had been mistaken, he 
was delighted to hand over to the young man the 
fortune of which he had been trustee, and should 
never cease to regret the unhappy error by which 
Richard had been kept out of his property so long. 

All this both the lawyer and his client affected 
to hear and believe without question. So that 
matters went on quite amiably and smoothly, and 
the transfer of the property from the usurper to 


330 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


the owner was quietly arranged when the ladies 
and Marrable, all of whom had greeted John with 
much constraint, had left the three gentlemen by 
themselves. 

‘‘May I ask, Mr. Bradfield,” asked Dick, during 
a pause for the lawyer to make some notes of the 
arrangement proposed, “ whether your own private 
fortune is large enough to enable you to live in the 
style you’ve been accustomed to? Or have you 
only kept up this large establishment on my ac- 
count?” 

He had found this delicate question somewhat 
difficult to frame, and he had not quite succeeded 
in avoiding a suspicion of sarcasm. But Mr. 
Bradfield answered at once that his private fortune 
was not adequate to stand such a strain. 

“You will oblige me then,” went on Dick, with 
very cold courtesy, “ by arranging with Mr. Rey- 
nolds the income which you would wish to have 
paid to you” — he paused a little before he went on 
with some emphasis — “in consideration not of 
your past, but of your present services.” 

John Bradfield winced; but he submitted like a 
lamb to be awarded a handsome pension in con- 
sideration of the fact that he had had to disgorge 
the remains of the property he had stolen. 

As soon as they decently could, both Mr. Rey- 
nolds and Richard left him. When they were in 
the hall, lawyer and client looked at each other. 

“Well,” said Mr. Reynolds, as he prepared to 
leave the house in company with Dick, “I’ve met 
some rogues in my time, but ” 


VICTORY, 


331 


I prefer to think,” said Dick gravely, ^Hhat he 
has tried so long to believe that I was insane that 
the forced belief has injured his own brain.” 

“Very kind of you to put it like that. You 
forgive him then?” 

The answer came, short and sharp : 

“ No. You can’t forgive the man who has robbed 
you of seventeen years of life, and youth, and hope. 
If I had forgiven him, I should not have insulted 
the cur by offering him a pension.” 

The lawyer shrugged his shoulders. 

“You don’t understand the world, Mr. Wryde. 
Nobody minds such an insult as that.” 

“It’s a satisfaction to me, at all events,” an- 
swered Richard simply. 

But he would not have been so magnanimous if 
he had not known that Chris was waiting to meet 
him in the meadow by the barn. 

Later in the day Mr. Bradfield came across Stel- 
fox, who was enjoying the victory he had been the 
means of bringing about too greatly to leave the 
scene of it with undue haste. His late master, 
who had recovered his spirits a little, addressed 
him with some abruptness in the following manner : 

“Stelfox, you’re a scoundrel.” 

“Thank you, sir,” answered the man as quietly 
as ever. “ If I hadn’t been a bit of a rogue my- 
self,” he went on thoughtfully, “perhaps, sir, I 
shouldn’t have been so successful in bringing an- 
other rogue to book.” 

For one moment Mr. Bradfield seemed disposed 
to kick him, but he refrained and laughed instead, 


333 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


with some constraint, however. The remark had 
to be treated as a joke, though it could not be made 
to pass for a palatable one. 

^‘Now why,” pursued he, with an appearance of 
sincere regret, “did you not either let me know 
that you believed Mr. Richard to be recovering, or 
else let him escape much sooner than you did?” 

“Weil, sir,” he answered, not thinking it neces- 
sary to notice the first question, and proceeding 
straight to consideration of the second, “ when I 
first had my suspicions, the poor young gentleman 
had grown into such a savage that, if I had let him 
out, people would have believed that he was in- 
sane. I had to do my best to fit him for the world 
before I let him out into it. And I shouldn’t have 
succeeded so well as I did but for Miss Abercarne’s 
coming. That gave him just the stimulus he 
wanted, and after that it was easy to do what I 
liked with him. Why, sir, he’d forgotten how to 
speak when I first took him in hand, and I had to 
teach him as well as I could by the movement of 
the lips first, until bit by bit it came back to him.” 

John Bradfield whistled softly. 

“Then I wish d — d well you’d left it alone!” he 
murmured softly as he walked away. 

There was consternation among the Graham- 
Shutes when the evil rumor reached their ears that 
“dear cousin John” had got into trouble of some 
sort which involved heavy pecuniary loss, and the 
breaking up of the establishment at Wyngham 
House. It came at such an awkward moment too, 
just when Mrs. Graham-Shute had contemplated 


VICTORY. 


333 


borrowing the use of the grounds for a garden- 
party which was to break the record of all her pre- 
vious entertainments. 

So, in despair, she had to borrow the common 
garden in one of the little squares in the town to 
give an open-air reception, which at least had the 
merit of attracting a great deal of attention. It 
was indeed the sensation of the season” among 
the little boys and girls and the fisher-lads and 
hawkers of the population, who assembled in 
crowds, climbing up the railings from the outside, 
and occasionally shying well-directed pebbles right 
into the strawberries and cream, which the guests 
were enjoying as well as they could in the circum- 
stances. So that Mrs. Graham-Shute’s usual neg- 
lect to provide sufficient amusement for her guests 
was amply compensated for by the necessity of 
perpetual rushes on the part of the gentlemen of 
the party to the railings, to disperse the jibing 
hordes from the courts and alleys of the town. 

One other incident gave an unusual zest to the 
proceedings. This was the appearance of Chris 
Abercarne, no longer in the character of the 
“housekeeper’s little girl,” but as i\\e fiancee of a 
gentleman of property who now made his first ap- 
pearance in Wyngham society as “Mr. Bradfield’s 
ward.” 

Dick’s appearance threw Lilith into a state of 
the greatest excitement. 

“ Why, Chris,” she took the earliest opportunity 
of whispering to Miss Abercarne, “ it’s my hand- 
some stranger! How awfully, awfully mean of 


334 


A PERFECT FOOL. 


you not to tell me! I’ve been wasting my time 
dreaming about him for the last six months !” 

But other things less pleasant to hear were said 
about the young fellow with the prematurely gray 
hair and the deep lines of sadness in his face. 
People whispered of “ a far-away look in his eyes,” 
and asked each other what the story was about the 
man who had been shut up in the east wing at 
Wyngham House. And they wondered why Mr. 
Bradfield had left so suddenly for the Continent, 
and whether it was true that Wyngham House 
was to be sold. 

But none of these rumors troubled Chris or her 
future husband, whose scarcely concealed worship 
of each other caused many a kindly smile. Chris 
was quite astonished at the number of friends she 
had, as proved by the quality and quantity of wed- 
ding-presents that poured in. For everybody’s 
opinion of the “perfect fool” had gone up when 
everybody heard that she was going to marry a 
man with thirty thousand a year. 

A much smarter wedding than that of Richard 
Wryde and Chris Abercarne took place about the 
same time as theirs. It was that of James Stelf ox 
with a young woman to whom he had long been 
attached, and she was enabled, through the gener- 
osity of Richard, to indulge her heart’s highest 
ambition, and to be married in a white satin train 
six yards long, with a veil of corresponding propor- 
tions. She had eight bridesmaids, who all wore 
mauve satin frocks and primrose-colored hats, and 
the portrait of the bride and an account of the 


VICTORY. 


335 


ceremony appeared in The Woman^s World of 
"fashion. 

Richard Wryde had set his late servant up as 
the proprietor of a brand-new hotel. For he per- 
sisted in being passionately grateful to the man 
who had been the means of saving his reason and 
his life, in spite of Stelfox’s own gentle remon- 
strances. 

“If you’ll only believe me, sir,” he would say 
earnestly, “it was just a toss-up whether I took 
your part or Mr. Bradfield’s. For you were that 
savage when it first occurred to me to take you in 
hand that I didn’t know how it would turn out 
myself. It was just a lucky “ spec” on my part, 
sir.” 

But Dick will not believe this, neither will Chris. 
They are both rather old-fashioned, unworldly 
creatures, tinged with a simplicity which comes 
to him through his long confinement, and to her 
through sympathy with him, and they are a little 
out of touch with the cynical spirit of the times. 

They live quietly in the lake district, for Richard 
Wryde, through his long deafness, cannot bear a 
louder noise than that of his wife singing or play- 
ing the piano, or the splash of the water of the 
lake, or the cries of their children at play. 


THE END. 


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